Barbs at 20 paces, tips
dipped in our own blood,
we raise pain-filled goblets,
swapping poisoned quaffs.
Anger-fired eyes stab
each tumbling tear.
Caress and slap dance
a bitter do-si-do until
the music stops.
We dress our wounds
and then,
fondling our addiction,
return each time for one more tune.
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3 comments:
Sharp, crystalline, and delicious. I am awed.
Oh, VERY good indeed! Ouch... - jcn
OG, beautiful, but painful.
Love and warm hugs,
Paul.
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