Like a white moth in a black mirrored box your moon-spune dress gleams in the balmy  night.
Your the spike in my vein.The lurching tune caught in my brain.Your a cheep motel delight.

A whisper says you're all I ever wanted.All and more.I stretch and shivers as you tear me,repair me,deliver me to that alter etched with the words" forever " and  " Adore " marked (always)

Burning sage in a bushel, haze forms the veil of mystery that laps the sinew of you thighs and cloaks your dark imploring eyes. Where crimson blossoms,bloom, then burn to warm the Passions treachery.

Smoke drifts across the ceiling, like the ghost of a dozen lovers.
And the heat is thick and stifling
Though I threw aside the cover. My hand is tangled in your hair.When I wake up you won't be there just raven Tressel in my fist ,and my empty wallet on the stair.

The morning rays broke on my gaze. Now I'm sitting on the floor. And I drink to the memory of taste. The salt upon your lips. The rim of the glass cannot compare. I smile and draw a sip.

I cut some gauze and taped it down,where you took your pound of flesh before wrapping it up and carrying it out agaisnt  your shinny dress. And when it came time to package your prize.What better thing to choose. You bundle the still beating morsel up in a page from yesterday's news .