03 July 2011

two hundred-forty eight.

midnight, summertime lover.

her fingertips are made of cutlass
and when she leans in for a hug &
clinches the valley where your spine
lays , she is determined to slice it
open to get an exclusive touch (&
she won't tell) of your insides , as the fluids flow -
like a surgeon , she wants to know
all of you , that she may take care of
all of you , internally and externally ,
she'll know all of you .

leaving you for dead , she's known to
do just that - be wise , don't make eye contact.

just. run.