(L*ve's a four-letter word,
so, darling, don't you swear)

I'm sorry that I killed you, honey,
it's just that your sweet cold lips
were too entrancing (they hungered my
deft touch)

and your lovely red blood (like
all nice poison apples) seemed to
drip endlessly; tenderly, into my hot melting soul.

It was you that brought me
miracles, honey, it was almost a dream come true;
almost like True love.

by Ballerina With Fins

Other poems of WITH FINS (67)

Comments (3)

Don't you love the power of the *? It turns a word into a dart and this is an excellent use of it. Bravo!
Ballerina, an intriguing write, I L*ve the part within the parenthesis... excellent! ! Brian
Yeah that 'L' word is almost as bad as the 'C' one B with F! lol You express the common ground of simply 'F'ing so well. Miracle maker of wickedly sweet honey, Tai