Crashed on my shores,
shell cracking, she'll shock.
Briny bitch licking salty wounds,
won't take a grain but will litter a mile.
I shall wear the husk of your rattle
at my throat,
Keep the fleshed fangs still.
Gouging your way out to the in,
I am not right or empty.
Suttee on an icy pyre,
muslin lust quickening.
Widowed eventuality anneals.
Sometimes I won't,
sometimes I never will.
Venial vanity,
mortality in vein,
my pulses slam on the altar of your imagined.
Deserted crossroad bearing memories of the traveled,
I add mine to the path.
~Fatale
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