walking to a lover's house
in silence
bathed in mauve
my ears filled with quiet
a lily turned inward
hidden poem made known, almost
spills on concrete, grey-
life ruined inside the mouth
of a weary eve, not quiet lost
just seeking the moist flesh
covered in red
red the color of blood and charity
the cigarette's lit clit
her second mouth, hotter
yet silent.
silence is a mask
seductive as a lover's hands
weaving blue flame orgasms
chains of little addictive deaths
unnoticable 'till you're gone
shimmering to dante's heaven
{like a captured mermaid}
all body
and buried you.
Cynthia
2.6.10
