Poem - 01 November 2017, 12:36

Red Rum

Noelle Anneliese

Poison was a fine wine coming from your hands.

Here I am, on the cusp of making history with liar-

(“I’ll be there”)

An agreement doused in acid and tied like a cherry stem by the grace of your mouth.

(“We can still be friends”)

Our relationship did not sour, it fermented.

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Drama Freestyle Prose Romance Speculative

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Anna Smelser 7 years ago

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