Hell in High Heels

"Hell was born from scratched out words,
words streaming from a poet's blackened heart,
this poet was wearing high heels,
all the better to stab you with."


3. Behind You

Look behind you,

See a darkness creeping,

Its cold, charcoal hand

grabbing you by the throat.


It's me, dear,

Can you see my eyes?

They change from cardinal 

to vermilion and maroon

But the fire still lingers there.


A smoke covers you,

Thin and grey across your eyes,

Across your lips,

A whisper of your death


I smile at you,

My teeth are bared,

but you don't hide,

you knew this was coming.

I told you.

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