Lacerated flames, your eyes conceal

Your hair, serpentine

Deadly, this one is


Red writing on the walls

“You’ll die if you try”


Why do you charm

You veiled witch

Maybe you’re an angel

From hell, perhaps


More resides in your pyre

The fire’s in your breath, too

Don’t hide it


I know it’s not all gone

Your shards of parchment

You exhumed them

But their ashes still tell, sweetie


Sulfur and sins


Set yourself free

I want your venom


I feel you darling

I really do

I just can’t reach you


Here’s a piece about this girl who came into my life this year. I swear, she’s a bloody mystery. She’s bloody beautiful for a start; she’s this bizarre concoction of fiery will and serene river. And that’s exactly why she’s got me in knots and knots about her.

You see, there’s something about her that’s so so addictive. She holds her cards very close to her chest, which only enhances her aura of mysticism and intrigue. And that’s bloody attractive, because all it does is create a mess of wires in my head about how I feel about her.

I know she harbors a darkness that can cloud a blazing sun, and my oh my is that darkness so seductive. I want to know her; I want to pour my soul out to her, and I want her to pour her soul out to me too. But those walls she built around her den aren’t caving in . 


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