Girls wear stiletto's so that they are that much further from the ***** soaked floor. hands on hips and lips sips from scarlet letter stained straws.
Men don't know where to put their hands. On hips and lips dips tastes forbidden fruit off her trees please.
People in the blender ice breaking, mixer shaking As close as we can get but lonely like debris in the storm room spinning ears ringing no one winning, everyone sinning and no one caring
This sounds very different from how I usually write and I think this could be the start of a longer poem or maybe a series. I'd love some feed back on this one.