Moonlit

Crafty with the hair flowing out a beautiful head. Tends to make everything confusing. Shes a porcelain doll when shes naked. Like I everythings painted perfectly on. Shes a painting of a great sea. Epic and dark. Her eyes cry for mine to follow. Its a banshee call. I'm lured by ecstasy. I almost smell it, see it red in the room. It covers my jeans, my shirt, my face and skin. It kills my lungs with burning apprehension. She is a crucified queen lying naked in the sheets. The blood fills me up. I'm spent with this. I move down to her. Her pain isn't concern. Shes not dying. Shes simple. Shes right. Warming my skin with lips. Shes a pretzel of arms and legs around me willing me to struggle. Its the only thing that can be done. Her eyes are the moon staring through the window of my mind. I'm dazed by the last breath she breaths. My hand is orange and traces down porcelain. We're painted perfectly with the moonlight and shadows. No one is the wiser.