Poison.

When I inhale deeply, I swear I could still smell the essence of her poison.

The candles dance around me as I lie in bed, close my eyes, and remember her next to me inside me.

Touching my own hands as she did, sparks the memory so vivid that I can hear her softly breathing and sweetly chewing gum in my ear…

…her hands on my chest, the exhilarating vibrations.

The candle light surrounds my room so that I am now inside the candle itself.

I hide the truth behind I’m kiddings and a sense of humor when she’s around.

We danced perfectly flowing as if the motions were passionately choreographed by a matchmaker from heaven.

I want to taste her so bad, that I swear to God, I have the residue of her sweetness on my tongue.

Avoiding eye contact can protect me from revealing an honest souls truth.

The feeling. The desire. The yearning is there, but if it’s acknowledged, then shell have to push me away.

Feelings like this are but a few in each lifetime and sometimes never at all…

Her shoes next to my bed would mean that she would spend the night.

Even if a few stolen moments in each other’s arms are all I have, then I am truly blessed, for I will never know paradise the same way.

I was sent an angel as I had prayed for, but I fear that her wings hide the venomous point of a scorpion.

Yet if the angel falls, I would catch her, risking the deadly sting of her poison.

poison.

I love the smell of her poison.

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– ©2017 Chris Pardal