Peach nectar trickling down
Brown tattooed thighs,
rubbing sweet spots extorted
with nothing but the tip
soft lips kissing cherries (blossomed)
…‘Till she oozes a la mode
femme fatale with a gun
in his mouth ♦️
and his excitement is
decked in neon lights behind
his pleated pants
Guitar strings line
Her silhouette,
💌
and the blood on
her blouse matches
her pretty red lipstick
The clock strikes noon
and his eyes roll back
laying beside stacks of dollar bills,
making the ice cream *stains*
on his wine colored suit
a symbol…
Hideaway powdered lines of memory,
t h e n ig h t h e
made, Lady Luck scream
as he kissed every corner
of her velvet hideaway.
*exploringcorridorsofnewfoundcourageandforgotteninnocence*
co-Produced by bĨG BaŘdi
XMisstrufflepig
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