gyrating hips
and blood red lips
****** thoughts
drift across,
seeping into the silk sheets
beneath her heat.
fire set alight
at the sight
of the small porcelain frame
draped in the skin of an angel
with the devil singing her name.
“nothing is good anymore
this i am sure”
she says,
counting petals that fall to the floor.
mischievous grin
locked on lips of sin,
and she can’t help the need
to bound forth and see,
naked glass
shattered from the days of past
with sand spilling pages
into unknown cages
opening eyes
to all the cherry red lies.
blood flowing over head and underneath
the infidelity that lives in his sheets,
lost kisses and broken hearts
left to be made into art.