Love Poem: to the hilt -

to the hilt -

brash …

you are
my petite paramour
the 'alternative' thang goin’ on
dyed, purple-red hair
perfectly-placed piercings and tats
(just enough to tantalize)
though nothing could befuddle the
exquisite frame you fill
the plump, darkened lips, like
juicy blackberries
coal-core Emerald eyes dancing above
do you really think
your knife so keen and cold?
I have felt the hilts of many broader blades
jagged-edged phrases that
were thrust far deeper than your
weak "goodbye"
and with considerably more forceful intent
but please
feel free to do your absolute damnedest
I know it's important to you
we've waltzed in
these roles before, you and I
you've worn this defiant skin with regularity
and I will allow you your venom, spattered
but before you pull the
knife from my dastardly pliable flesh
do not fail to finish the deed
and twist it, hard
I want to FEEL it this time
and lay in the warm blood of our passion
as you …

leave.