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candles f

She hated them.
Playing an evil dance
the wax melting
earthwards,
as the flame grew;
a cacophony of reds.
Why, she never knew
but since time,
she was indignant,
loathing them always –
the candles.

__________________________________________________________________

Enslaved by loneliness,
amidst the array-
stranger beings and
of conventional bourgeois.
She met him
the other day;
amongst the vile faces.
She smiled, never knowing why.
But she felt her heart
hum a rhythm,
a rhyme new and different
at his eyes,
and those eyes
bewitched her.
All at once.

The day repeated again,
smiled he, this time.
Slowly but firmly
ardour intertwined
luxuriated fondness,
and she was owned;
as he bred her
with an epidemic
of him.

A fine evening,
rays from
the setting sun
playing the clouds;
and the winter mist
biting the warmth
of the day.

The room dimly lit,
His eyes cuddling
her persona.
His lips to her’s;
crave building in
her smell intoxicating;
her touch melting
into his desire;
his hands fluent to her curves
her wants calling him,
and they
dramatically eros.
Her chaos
relished onto him.
Him hypnotised
at her immense smile.
As his finger tips
created art
onto her naked canvas
again & again !!

Her eyes caught the candles.

__________________________________________________________________

She hated them,
the cacophony of reds.
__________________________________________________________________

Here he smiled..
a naughty smirk..
as she closed her eyes
to absorb him.
But then..

He stabbed her
He stabbed her again.
He stabbed her
for the last time.

__________________________________________________________________

Playing an evil dance
the wax melting
earthwards,
as the flame grew.
Why, he never knew
but since time,
she was indignant,
loathing them always.

__________________________________________________________________

Red over his hands
she left unmoving
silent
into perennial sleep.
He smiled deadly.
venomous.

Not lust,
nor desire.
But blood
was his dirty addiction;
Stabbed her thrice,
for she was his third.

__________________________________________________________________

And the flame rose;
by the aroma of the blood.
And he will
never know
why she was indignant,
loathing them always –
The candles.

__________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________

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