The Daily Page . Creative Writing #5 - How Poisonous This Pale Porcelain Skin...

Evoke the wonderful Audience

What is this cover that is on my work?

I see nothing in common.

Do you?

If so please let me know what we can do to make it work.

I am your muse. Your performer. Your prostitute. Your nightmare. Your Freakshow. I’m the one that is the jerk.

The princess fell for the sideshow and no-one approved. The execution was worth the lust and the thrust for it was amusing yet I bid you adieu. Yet let me perform as I want to pay my dues. Nothing is wrong with the performance to this prince as she was crazy like most in power the ones who were there regularly saw the moods wings and ran for cover not to mention the days when bi-polar was diagnosed shhhh. it’s not true. I’m not taking this. I have no problems. I don’t like you how my issues. I cray 5 days out of the week for things that may just be untrue. I blame the ones closest to. I guess I see why. I can say I tried. Just another notch for you.

Embracing for the moment.

I saw her walking towards me as I walked towards her.

She was already smiling from 20 yards away.

She walked confidently in stride. With her legs swaying like two perfect pendulums in rhythm.

Her pale porcelain skin, raven colored hair and blood red lips slowly hypnotized me as a cobra.

I went to smile as we passed.

Her strike was swift grabbing my hand twirling me in her arms.

Kissing me with such passion as I could feel life suspended in time.

The ecstasy of it all left me briefly paralyzed.

Was this heaven?

She let go to allow me to gracefully fall.

It was that passionate kiss that will never be replaced.

She disappeared into the darkness of the street.

Those lips I still taste.

Never did I see her again.

That evening I died in love and lust.

She read my mind.

Teased me. Pleased me.

In a moment of passing time.

It was that embracing for the moment.

Which still be one of my favorite moments of time of mine to mind.

If I could ever kiss her again it still would never be enough.

She already knew why she the cobra strikes you die by a strike that seems so soft to the touch.

How poisonous this pale porcelain skin, raven colored hair blood stained red lips of a cobra slowly killed me. It was the serpent. It was the hiss. It was the kiss. It is the lust that I miss.