Bedtime stories

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Shrouded beauty framed by silken black,

hazel eyes like english oak, 

flesh white as purest smack.

And once it's in the bloodstream,

 

                you're never coming back.

 

A mind as sharp as nettle

could blister wildlife’s skin,

that thought infused would settle

then release its spell therein.

 

A voice like choral angels

an addictive hymnal trance,

to lead your captives quicker

in step toward the dance.

 

Then once embraced

and stripped of will,

prostrated to the glory

they are but lovers for the kill

one final bedtime story.

 

◄ Poetic justice

Scene from The Valley ►

Comments

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Wolfgar Miere

Wed 20th Jan 2016 03:12

Thanks for the comments.

Wolfie.

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Martin Elder

Tue 19th Jan 2016 22:38

Definitely a good metaphor with addiction. nice one Wolf

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Stu Buck

Tue 19th Jan 2016 20:19

this is great, especially...

flesh white as purest smack.

And when you breach their bloodstream,



they’ll never draw you back.

clever. dark and intriguing. as usual, effortless rhymes (seems effortless, sure its not!)

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Vicki Ayers

Tue 19th Jan 2016 18:52

I like he way the 1st verse stands in its own - outside the rhythm - it's a dark bedtime story but I like it! x

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