Photo Credit: electricfrog from Flickr.

She swam the seven seas and tasted the cold, cold moon. She warmed up to kindness and shed her light on those she loved.

She held his hand and pulled him through the rain, she lead him on.

She was just an entity lost in a sea of doubt and constrained by the world, a prisoner to her soul. She reached into his heart and cut the strings.

She wiped the lipstick from her lips and set her perfectly set hair in place… she scowled at the image in her mirror and ran her hands down her bodice. She knew she wanted him. She knew he would give in.

He sat in the corner with his whiskey rotting. He held the glass for too long, too many years too long. He knew what he was getting into yet he played the game.

She reached over and touched his ear, letting her touch linger. She whispered many nights of sweet-nothings over and over again as they lay in bed entangled in their skin. She glazed his chest with her breath, lowering herself to be used by him.

He longed for her touch and her hands. He loved the pleasure, he loved the pain. She wasn’t his for the keeping.

She rested her head and closed her eyes and she took in all that was to be. She wrapped his hands around her mouth and drawing her neck up to his. Like two cobras in heat, they moved.

She let go. He let go.

Swept into a sea of blackness, never to be seen again.


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