Talon.

By the Id

She simpered silver and deceptive
Swift, saccadic movements soften
Saturated struggles between juxtaposed eyelids
Slowly shimmering like something similar to saffron and salted sands
So, when first I saw you, I thought you were golden
 
Somehow, your arms spoke like sonnet and songs
Subtly silencing intuition with satin-like taction
Slicing, sanguine souls sanctimoniously
Scored, punctured heart scraps abandoned
 
And still you’re starving.

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2014 the Id
Published on Saturday, July 26, 2014.     Filed under: "Poetry"

Author's Note:

the ominous She.
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