★ ☆ poems // prose ☆ ★

Honey for the Depraved

The scent of her person wasn’t aromatic like lavender,
Sweet honeysuckle, or cinnamon -
Inasmuch as it was hers

It smelt like yearning, and deprivation
Something I couldn’t place
Lingering on the tip of my tongue
A tingling sensation.

The perfume of her aura drew me in,
And it’s persistence kept me there.
Waiting, lusting - zest.
I desired to douse her in my sin.

A viscous zeal, daringly absurd
Drenched her skin in my own self-interest
Until it encompassed her allure.

Corpses & Carnations

In this environment, things are very different. Your thoughts don't have meaning It may not be wise to think.