When muses maul their inspired with intent

Her walk
struck like a burning shot of Tennessee whiskey.
her voice
spoke lust in the dead sleepless still of night.
her face
flashed a powdered nose lovely haunting dream
painted lips firefight red,
mirrors froze with delight.

you made me feel
and so this hearts hoisted white flag flies.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s