16. Hush, little liar..


Don’t say a word, little one. Not a single breath can break the silence..

It was but a single, solitary stroke that stole the words from my lips. A kiss of mere inches, that held nothing shy of pristine malice, which held me captive and designed a darkness fierce to surface. Something stark against the porcelain that held in erection, something viciously quiet beneath the winds. The finger, so straightened that the very cusp of nature would have been admiring, was dropped..and I smirked. A curve that could speak volumes, whispered  along the moisture that smoothed the smiles cruelness. It was unashamedly a distinction of years beneath the surface, risen with languid illusion, and curled against the light to play in the barest of moments calmed…

I dislike, so very much, the sorted affairs of those who have misguided intentions with my own creation. Flesh, smile, a taste of something so pure that it beckons a stroking refusal to match. But, what of the chaos that breeds simplicity, and coaxes a truth to wane within the arms of deciept? What becomes of her? It is a question that tangles the flickering moments as they pass, and instead, leads me to quietly observe from the screaming depths of my own madness…

With the imagery firmly grasped, firmly placed, distinctly allowed to wash away behind the grime of years in the turmoil of solitary peace..she. I. The mirror is relinquished, and that finger of silence falls to the wayside.


2 thoughts on “16. Hush, little liar..

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