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Crimson On Steal

There are things that cannot be seen,
once darkrness has infused the very being.
Ink-like it flows through the veins,
now the vessel for sorrow.
The harbinger of fear and unrest.
No spoken word to utter from tainted lips.
The eyes give a fleeting glimpse,
into an otherwise barren soul.  
Hand in hand they danced,
oh how they danced.
The stillness of the night filling their senses.
Drip, drip, drip.
Crimson on steal.
Oh how they reveled in euphoric pleasure,
waves of ecstasy sweeping over them.
In a frenzied moment between forbidden lovers.
Hush, hush, hush.
Lifeless and still.

31 Mar 14

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