Wicked Tone – Twisted Prose

a writing not written,

a wanting not seen,

facsimile smiles,

we harbour our fears,

and fester our lies,

the devil our saviour,

a simple restitution,

eyes on the prise,

cum covered pillows,

crust covered thighs,

there is a symphony of percussions,

music only I can hear,

the foreboding,

the forbidden,

the end is where I begin…

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