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Image for the poem Red

Red

She says we all have our
vices. I sit bedside with my
head in my hands. Her
clothes are bright and
balled up on the carpet.

She says it's not the
end of the world. Her
hands work the tension in my
neck. Sometimes, I swear her
fingers wrap all the way
around.

She says you're not the
only one. We lie in the
dark, her hand sinking down. She
whispers to me; her tongue is a
serpent.
Written by fallntarot
Published
Author's Note
~*Above photo is "Alegorie Auf Die Lebenslust" by Hans Makart*~
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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