Red lips




Red Apple

Juices Flow

Blood Red Toenails

Peak out

From Sandals


As I kiss her

Her bite draws blood

Hand holds the red rose

Thorns pierce white flesh

Blood flows

A river of pain

No one to understand

Crushed under

Meaningless lust

Buried under the purple-red bruises

Red eyes filled with tears

The red sun sets

A fiery end

Poem on Love (lust)

I want to write

the perfect poem

about love,

that kind of love

full of lust

the kind

we don’t talk about

as lovers lay naked

in the midday

tongues meeting

the soft flesh,

slight flicker

that arouses

breath quickens

with each thrust

hips arching

seeking to satisfy


pent up desires,

that kind of love

where two are one

and everything else

doesn’t matter

except to feel

one another


and then die

in each other’s arms

in the madness

called love.

Midnight in the Garden

The air is cold and damp

the wind a bit sharp

he stands on the corner

under the yellow, flickering light

a pile of extinguished butts

lay on the ground at his feet.

Peering out into the darkness

he searches for her,

looking for that familiar walk,

the way she sways her hips

listening for her heels clicking

keeping time with his own heart.

In the mist he sees her

like a wraith coming to devour

her lips blood red as she reaches

holding the ripened fruit in her hand.

His lips touch the skin, the cool feel

as he bites into the flesh, sweet

yet bitter on his tongue

while in the dark the eyes glow

the promises of the gypsy

laughing at their attempt

love was not that easy they said.