The Artful Seduction of Malice

by on October 19, 2015 :: 1 comment

You pair up with me like a lover sick
for contact any contact but you carry
harm with you in your sweat and
on your tongue and in your bed and
in your eyes you mean me harm you do.

You court on long days when sunsets
bloom peach on my lips and
you stand a silhouette dark
in my doorway cheek bones
pale and angled just so
just so I alone can see the
sharp small shadows they throw
on the coming night.

Your voice burrs on the air
between us and the air
thrums slightly then ripples
my chin seconds later and I know
right then I know I will spurn you in
a rupture of defiance So go for
you are not true you are not true
do you hear? Pack up your skulk and
disease and sweet talk for there is no
we with us, not yet.

editors note:

In time, she’ll wend her way. She will be us and you will be lost; deliciously, bitterly lost. – mh clay

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