Cute Poison


I loved the smoke that crept from his eyes, coaxing my heart. A virgin initiation. A riot in my lungs but somehow relieving. My cute poison, somethings you don’t need but you want so bad. A rebel with a cause, mine was to prove a point to the world. And I wore the smoke on my skin like a cheap spandex suit. I relished the toxic ecstasy, my daily delicacy.

I hoarded sticks for my ritual, spared no coins from my lovers. We tasted lips with the lingering taste of scented smoke and we wanted more. Somewhere in between packet 7 and 20, our world had transformed into white rings of conceit. We got licked by the flames till we drowned. I’ve got burns on my neck that were supposed to be love burns.  The sheets tasted the smoke, and the earth tasted the smoke, and now it coughs just like the rest of us.

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About sensoria300

I harness words, I thrive on them. I tell stories. I am dreamer, sometimes a poet but mostly I am a Game of Thrones fanatic. Lady Olenna, Lyanna Mormont and Arya Stark are my spirit animals.

Posted on February 7, 2015, in Poetic Justice and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Wow, this one really inspires analysis and curiosity about the moments described. Very well written and creative Jennifer

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