I was sitting in a nonchalant coffee shop, overlooking the satin river. The moon's reflection graduated over the still waters like milk being poured into bitter black coffee.
As I sip my tiredness away, I mull over what the shadows of my hood secrete. The shameful, suggestive, sinful tones of purples and blues lay a lot deeper than on the surface of my colourless skin, but tints my vision to see though a red filter. Red. The colour of thick blood that pulses around my body - reaching every place that your sharp tongue has already claimed. Your words battered me. I'm not a piñata yet you continue to hollow me out. My blood leaked as if it were candy; your appetite, your sweet tooth was hungry for my suffering.