My Creative Journal

Cracked In Two

His cold hand sinks down on my chest

Burdened by a heavy wheeze, a –                               breathtaking passion dances to the

fervent pressure, pushing down at –                     besotted sounds, springing forth from

this glass-like breast –                                                   this fountain, an enamored statue

ready to burst, a sinner –                                            crying, brown eyes looking down and

parched of thirst. A bitter tang –                                   as she licks the sweet residue of juice

that furs over my tongue. Dizzy nausea, –                 around the bitten apple, she smiles,

visual this punctured lung, clawed and –                  by the potency of this passion that it

squeezed over by his cold palm that –                                 ignites.

I cannot breathe. Let me breathe.

Aroused in a union of love and hate unfound.

 

 

 

 

 

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