Friday, April 6, 2012

NaPoWriMo Day 6

Almost didn't do a poem for today. My mind hasn't been cooperating so this isn't my best work. And it's untitled.

Fractured reality at the bottom
of a glass. Her crimson lips
tasted of Hell.
And still she felt like home.
Sad notes of a saxophone
tangled with the smoke in the air.
She slid off the stool, kissed
my neck and whispered
I need you.”

Before the sun came up,
she slipped out the door.
And my neck still burned
from the Devil’s kiss.

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