Ashen Blue

Comfortable decay in her dress,

these black bows adorn her skin–

grey,

ashen–

crisping,

beneath the sticks used to feather her vendetta–

no clitoris.

 

Her chest cavity aches for you,

deep purple–

grey and purple make blue.

 

Choking hazards are your tongue,

twisting down her throat–

bulging masses she can’t handle,

necrophiliac, you.

 

Pretty girl, ashen and blue,

you use iron gateways to originate her holes–

prop open her smile with bullets and stones…