THE PIERCED NOTHING
Her skin is textured fabric
and a lovely pair of…
at odd eyes of ink black and sheen green.
Cherry cheeks, heavy handed
for his amusement.
Lips sewn to silence
just the way he likes her.
Living only through him
though she’s not alive.
Criminals steal hearts as well
at her lovely, warped sight.
Her face overcome with raw beauty
and unrequited longing…sometimes
with every tick tock of his thick c(l)ock.
Her party mask put away for the evening
easier for the lingering shadows to find her.
Others may not understand
the slow bleed, but he does.
Or the demise of her assembled heart
stitched together from all the best materials
and time spent with him.
She stuffed full of his sinful vengeance
and an assemblage of herbs:
lamb’s cress, plantain, mayweed,
chamomile, crab-apple, fennel, and thyme
because that’s all she has to kill.
Threaded tight and fleetingly sated
with curves in all the right places.
If she dare tear at the seams
his needle work will do the trick
but the price she will pay is steep.
Candles flicker in the howling wind
a pleasure watching them melt away
drip by delicious drip.
Taking delight in his cruelty
and the suffering of others.
Associating the hurt,
wicked deep in hells
fueled by his malefic ways.
The foregone Cajun Gris Gris
mee-maw taught her in distance’s past,
soft at first, gentle to the ears.
The heat begins to build
as the chanting is spoken
murmured merely through his lips
The lovely locks of his victims’ tresses
wrapped artfully around her left mauler
tangled up in the colorful pricking pins of many
sticking further into her the deeper you thrust.
A little taste of flesh
her sweet savage has awoken.
In lust’s midnight hour
tell her about heaven
with movement not words.
She gently squeezes her patchwork thighs
against the cool, keen blade.
Now silence her inner hunger
by tasting her heightened fear.
Whispering thighs of spent pleasure
cascading down his face,
and licked from his hungry lips.
Enjoying her contorted face of ecstasy,
though too soon he’s gone.
Left to writhe and moan unattended,
she consoles the numbness by
baying at the moon
in wicked tongues birth
clawing at its distance,
her appetite still ravenous.
May she suffer one time more please?
She’ll place simpering kisses
upon his adored feet
clean and always attended to by her.
She’s hungry again… he knows
but for now, he’ll let her starve
until the sharp pricked needles are all she dreads
but all she craves as well.
Copyright © Courtney Hubbert | Year Posted 2021
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