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The Autumn Lie

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Black eyes, melting faces, and spinning sharks.
Moon pies and autumn plums.
A single thread of crimson yarn.
Weaving through the places I could not hide.
Sewing together a wondrous lie.
“This pace is too slow,” he whispered.
My saliva he warmed as it glistened with desire.
The pearls I admired.
Oh the tragedy I acquired.
The lady will hold her cat scratched tongue.
The scoundrel will shoot an empty gun.
The flames will scar your beautiful face.
Forever he likes to speed up this pace.





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librarylover15 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Oct. 1, 2010 at 9:21 pm
love this, great job, keep up the awesome work!! :D
 
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