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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #491919
When the hurt came back.
Curves of strength,
A gentle touch;
Salty lines stream down her face.
Taunting memories,
Special grins,
Playful glances spot her body.
While those gentle touches draw her;
Like a butterfly to a flame.
It burns, crisp, brittle.
Burning passion,
Bitter taste,
Worn out lies.
The routine bores her, frightens her.
She had to do it,
There was no choice,
She had to do it,

I tell myself.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/491919-Satin-Thoughts