Blind

She exhales false desire like toxic fumes,
careless with the casting of her gaze,
her skin a flame to draw the moths.
The darkest nights are her realm,
playing in the shadows
of love and desire,
blind to the plight
of those who
inhale
her.

.

Written to the image prompt at The Mag.

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12 Comments

Filed under Poetry

12 responses to “Blind

  1. her skin a flame to draw the moths.
    The darkest nights are her realm,

    She has her assets. Can well work up some desires in others!

    Hank

  2. I love the descent of the shape. The smaller the line, the larger the impact.

  3. Love the tempo this poem has taken

  4. mariaannawitt

    Nicely done.

  5. The final turn on the initial worlds is splendid. A powerful poem.

  6. Wow. I LOVE this. It’s amazing. Excellent write. Beautiful.

  7. Michael Atchley

    they have no idea the addiction they propagate. or the wake they throw

  8. I get a Neil Yong quote in my head… “it’s better to burn out than to fade away”.. alas it might have inspired Curt Cobain to join Club 27…

  9. Wonderful…loved the way the poem has taken shape, literally… 🙂

  10. A dangerous woman indeed. Well-penned!

  11. Wow! I read it a second time and realized that ‘her’ can be figurative too. I don’t know if you intended it that way but either way the message is strong, though dark.

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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