Curling Smoke

Curling smoke, a metallic scented gun,
Still, taste essence on tingling tongue.
Sanguine blood, like her lips, ooze,
Reeking of pungent sex and cheap booze.

Prone she lay like a cadaver on steel,
Guilt threatens to reject my last meal.
Bloodstained sheets our once passion bed,
Echoes where we once placed our head.

Even gone, her lovely body enticed,
My obsession for her was just too high priced.
Sirens are screeching, rapidly closing in,
Reaching out to tenderly stroke gelid skin.

Closing vacant baby blue eyes,
In death, her beauty spews no more lies.
Deeply kissing rigor lips once more.
Resignedly, turning my attention to the door.