Game On


Fireball whiskey, lace panties, dark alleys
fists she allowed to hit, razors  she chased; yes
lost cognizance ~ found; chased by a shot
of heated release, now used up and put out.

Fumbling in the dark for lace panties. She knew
what they would do, their promise and invitation
to remove and to use. She knew when he saw them
he would callously remove them.

This a shot of adrenaline to feed her demons.
Now waiting and listening for the echo of his steps.
She searches for lace, gagging on the stench
of broken promises to herself. Regret is vicious.



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