scribble scrabble

diluting our existence.

she gives me anything but despair, leaving my desires
wondering how can she? dirty lovers, raising hell with a saint
she portrays, always tightroping on edge of lust and
complete sadness, idle confetti after a victorious
lap, utterly free challenging mad hatter, lost like
the yellow brick road. mixing analogies like drinks and
exposed only to her eyes staring back, bite marks tell
our story, tonight is another
mistake.