"Have you ever tried choking?" He asked nonchalantly.
“No,” she said. with a wrinkled nose of disapproval

“Want to try it?” His approach couldn't hide his excitement
“Ok,” she said, absent-mindedly running her index finger over his lips.

“you  can  choke  me,” she added slowly,
“if I can stab you repeatedly
with the 7 inch stainless steel
nail-file I keep under my pillow.”
.
.
Songs for this:
Me and the Devil by Soap&Skin
Better By Myself by Hey Violet

~
Sugar wife,
slipping husband,
massaged honeymoon flesh
wrapped in cellophane.

The sound of a water clock
cascading down
her mysterious frontage.

Handprints on
the glass pane
opaque with remnant steam.

Let your eyes
be your guide,
when dressed in
the tiniest temptations,
she catwalks into the room
with a novel idea for two.
~

Sorry doesn't change a thing

what's broken
remains broken.

What will tomorrow bring?
    
           Joy
           or
        Sorrow?

        Hope
          or
       Despair?

Will the sun smile tomorrow
            or
will the clouds cry?

Will someone find love tomorrow
          or
Will a heart break?

Let's hope for the best
      but
prepare for the worst -

     because
No matter what,
Tomorrow will come.

You used to be bold

Now you just sit there and mourn and you weep
Unfulfilled
Hasn't enough of your time been lost?
Eaten up by mites, clearly mightier than you
And ghosts
Hovering over your shoulder
Greying your eyes and smothering your heart
And for what?
Because of how unlucky you once were?
Or how you refused luck as it felt unknown


I'll say

It's easy to linger in the same halls
Cozy to not have to master
The strength to look up
Up there
Where you haven't been before
You don't know what the weather's like

Scary to think the wind could be stronger
Than your will to survive

openings in the fabric
conveniently placed

stepping stones across the stream
bare feet long to be wet

choices within choices made
buckle up you just might crash

God wants to be your lover
do not doubt it you are already loved.

I’ve never been kissed on the dance floor.  
With him, I feel light-hearted,  
but apart, I’m utterly devastated.  
I’m a dreamer, he’s laid-back,  
and without a genuine connection, our love feels  
like scenes from a disconnected game—  
where hate destroys, yet love seeks to heal.  
But with each passing day, my love for him dwindles.  

We are apart because this kind of love cannot thrive.  
We never dance; we never kiss on the dance floor.  
Our rhythms never sync; he lacks that spark,  
and so, a kiss on the dance floor has eluded me.  

Feelings shift when loneliness takes their place.  
Love wavers,  
when a marriage crumbles,  
as I wish and hope our love was strong enough  
to bridge the gap.  
Unlike wildflowers plucked without care,  
my love was stunted,  
never given the chance to blossom.  

Still, I hold a profound respect for him.  
A part of me must make a choice,  
and so I choose happiness; I choose solitude  
over the confusion of pity masquerading as love.