Turn the Page

What remains beyond the climax...? The enticing rise, the disappointing fall, no more crimson skies, the sacrifice of inhibitions lost. A falling market, stain between once solicitous thighs, now but a vague remembrance of cries consumed with denial... impatient, violent pulsation, no longer compliant but decrepit...so keen an observer of disarray. One engulfed by infatuation...another, missing in action, to what extent had lain there... frozen... Note: Fictional piece dealing with the detriment of being used.