Forgive-Me-Not

A. Deweese

He's got a
mouth full of
lust and
that twitch in
the hairpin
bend of his
lips looks
like the most
cruel, most
wet orgasm
she has yet
to come
across. It
isn't just
the danger
she senses
in his smile,
although
that counts
for something
for sure.
Far more
than risk
lurks in
the smirk
of those
irises and
she wants to
eat every
particle,
wants to
binge until
she turns
bulimic on
the blue,
the ice and
the flames
that scorch
her backside
melt her
skin like it's
a vinyl
raincoat worn
while dancing
in a shower
of acid rain,
plummeting
from all
of their
whatever
intentions.


Issue 1 : Fall, 2016