• Blind Faith

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    Feeding me those pseudo-smiles; a trap of sorts waltzes from full lips,
    while blind digits lap me up, drowning me in rough, yet tender grips.
    Swallowing your affection like pills, I am eager to cater to you;
    easily falling into raw kisses that paint me with the sweetest drizzles of salvias fondue.

    Your breath scorches against my neck, burning deep the way only magma can;
    while your thick English accent resonates right in my ear – you’re the best con man.
    You grin, quickly changing temperaments the same way birds change direction,
    thrusting the cold metal into my palm; I know you won’t hear any objections.

    My soul reflects in the glass puddle of black tars, and I nod to your demand.
    Your laugh dines on my form, leaving me to quiver at the words of a promised land,
    which lick at my flesh as they roll off of your tongue in an intimate kind of hiss
    and tingle underneath my skin, adding to my fall into the abyss.

    Deception is the cruellest game, the one in which you always place first;
    as the bullet glides through the weak substance of my being, will you thirst?
    After my touch, my voice... will the crisp, bitter-sweet snap of the gunshot
    linger behind in your very own heart, haunting your thoughts?


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