They stop becoming words and actually become emotions.

And hey there, I love you.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Turn It Down

His familiar scent brings images - red
Reenactments and memories. Lustful; bled
Don't remember, don't want. These feelings unneeded
Run, he screams, run!

"The taste of me is your kiss of death
Touch again, you'll break your neck"
Run. Don't remember. Just leave
Or stick in my entangled mess

His constant fantasy to see her cry
She stutters and chokes, begs to try
Reaching out, tight grip she has
He lets her go effortlessly

He makes his move and her heart races
Inactive and blue, he lies, she paces
It paces and races, drops and stops
Tiresome and decisionless

She wants, she loves and begs for more
He shakes his head, finger to door
He won, she leaves, she walks back home
Lost.

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