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Beauty: The Confusion
Creepy-crawling jolts like lightning.
Grins, spits flames of lust.
Painting pretty portraits.
Whispers of salvation.
The house is beautiful,
But it's burning inside.
Confusion like your husband,
Who tries on dresses while you sleep,
Painted Lips surrounded by 5-o'-clock shadow,
Beauty not quite skin deep.
Or confusion like the stripper,
Getting loaded before she takes her clothes off,
So she won't remember how they look at her.
Like a tasty morsel to sink their life into.
A den of erotic frenzy, eyes wild.
Beauty is merely skin.
Anything deeper is thrusting between her legs.
Grins, spits flames of lust.
Painting pretty portraits.
Whispers of salvation.
The house is beautiful,
But it's burning inside.
Confusion like your husband,
Who tries on dresses while you sleep,
Painted Lips surrounded by 5-o'-clock shadow,
Beauty not quite skin deep.
Or confusion like the stripper,
Getting loaded before she takes her clothes off,
So she won't remember how they look at her.
Like a tasty morsel to sink their life into.
A den of erotic frenzy, eyes wild.
Beauty is merely skin.
Anything deeper is thrusting between her legs.
Published 8th Nov 2012
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