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