marcusworx77

Love sets the stage for tragic blissful heartbreak.
Her stare cuts me to shreds exposing all my organs like an autopsy, to be sold to the highest bidder.
All except for the heart, which she keeps in a rusty kettle with several others, one for every jaded lover. As my skin hangs off my shattered ribcage in a state of beautiful decay, the last ounce of life rises from my lifeless tattered carcass, like the last cloud of frozen breath from a dying wolf, wounded from battle, laying helpless in the snow.
She kept the truth just below the icey surface, with her shiny steel-toed combat boot on it's head, denying it warmth, or honesty.
But when she finally let it up for air....it was to late.
With no remorse, or second glances in my direction, she pours the kettle's contents over her head letting the crimson wave of death wash over her taunting nudity.
She baths in the blood that flows from every ventricle, Staining her hair, flowing down and around every curve of her porcelain body that shines as bright as the full moon.
The last thing I see as I lay dying, is her unforgiving smile, quietly laughing as my eyes wash over black.