Staind

Your bittersweet laced strands fall straight,
limp and tightly wrapped around this prey.
And as you start, with your jet eyes fixed
just wait a moment and hear their call.
A cry magnificently enticing, a sound beckoning
for more.

A slither down their tongue, a liquor; ivy's poison
of emerald green, envy lined and tailed with milky ember
oh one's favourite touch. You watch decay amount infront
of your spite. They, almost gone, see a devilish snare
peeled on that face through dead frail skin.

Reviews

[Ms. Gruye]

you do a great job with your imagery here. Though, I look for more than just imagery. I often search for an absolute or truthiness. This is a great beginning.

viva la