deepundergroundpoetry.com

No light

The position shifts. Cars drive away. Light is black. He squints to watch her drop a grey coat on grey pavement, step out  
onto the street.  
"Here,"  
She giggles, removing shoes, spinning on tar with bare feet and rhythm, dark eyes and taunting hips. "Now." He heaves, the very soul within needs to bite. And this bleak life  
is barely worth anything  
living on almost seconds  
of heat  
and sweat,  
on books telling children what it could be and adults writing it off in modern time. The position shifts, her fingers wrap, desperately, around his upper-left thigh. There's an unspoken delight, silence floods oxygen, pastel floods darkness. Claws  
crawl the length of his body,  
the knees and ankles, the hips and breast, the shoulders, the neck, the ears,  
until lips to lips,  
until the death of innocent torment.  
 
 
 
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published | Edited 26th Mar 2013
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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