she is a doll of supple clay.
              with ample cheeks,
opened fresh like roses from their  dewy  buds,
f r e c k l e d  with the soil that fed them.
her eyes,
dormant
behind the   glossy sheen.
they are            blue pools      of
           motionless gin.
  parted slightly,
her lips are
full & ripe
with the   silence   that her beauty awards.
for all,
a doll cannot speak
   until the words are forced in her mouth.
she cannot live,
yet she is the                           centre                            of their attention.
the breaths her lungs release are cold kisses.
her body is an
                      empty vessel,
coated in lust and desire,
                                                                                                         after all,
that's what she was made for.
created to be played with.
a toy in high demand.
               a doll of supple clay.

his hands
sculpted from stone,
hold my thumping,
writhing heart.
he clenches,
it envelopes.
my heart
rattles in its
blood drenched
shell.
empty.

s p r a w l e d
across the grass
my hands helplessly grasp the roots of the  buzzed  green carpet
   like it's the only thing that'll
hold me down

the benevolence
of your heart
is condolence
for the parts of me
that burn

my skin is burning
my skin is burning
you said                                         you'd always be by my side
you said you'd                   douse me
where are you
where are you
I need you more than I    ever    have
and more than
I    ever    will again
I float on the
surface of the          lava,
undisturbed
and the                                            flames
   caress    my skin
and     lick     my pores
until I can't feel them
anymore
and the  fires
of hell
feel normal
under the   salted
taste of your tongue
my skin is          burning
I'm        burning
where are you
where are you now