In a room full of things unspoken
She felt like a satanist in a Catholic Church as her lipstick stained his vest.
But she was a saint at best
Never lived to taste this kind of distress
her heart like a murmur but she was slipping off her dress
And he,
With his claws in her chest
Loved what she kept from the rest
He viewed her as a masterpiece
The kind that raised each strand of hair on his arms
A mind thats never truly been discovered
Traveled by the fickle and the blind
He asked her is this corruption or free will?
She replied with a kiss of her stained lips and a whisper of words into his ear,
the context of which he has always feared.
His questionable behavior hid him from the embrace he couldn't bring himself to allow
Always running back to her
To the one he let in
The only one he holds value to
He knew one day she would hold the title he was so afraid to feel

(C) Tiffanie Doro