Her Room

Her room was like an air balloon and she was hot.

I felt the floor rock as I dared to glimpse at the colour on her checks.

She had red hearts appearing there.

Maybe it was the champagne or was it me?

Tattered lace, fur and tea bags hung from her walls.

We lay still as we drew close a frozen touch that hunts my flesh…

Chilling me in unrest….

This little fresh bud of a girl seems closer to a painted corps as the sun caresses her white flesh.

She has acorns for buttons and silver cups with potions that mend my ever hungry soul.

There is a saintly grace to her sanctuary.

She could strip and tease percent her self to me and all I would see would be fire burning away our delight.

Raton Rose

P.S. art work done by the amazing Monica Canilao


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