Sentimental candyfloss, lingerie and bows.
Pink.
Shimmering ribbon and lips.
'You are mine'.
And now -
What lecherous magic,
mercy, mercy.
What magic.
So saturating and sticky.
Swirled;
fantasy-memories, play-pretend.
I taste you.
About the Creator
Shaun Sundance Yates .
If you like what I write, let me know. I'm looking to collaborate.
Keep reading
More stories from Shaun Sundance Yates . and writers in Poets and other communities.
Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson4 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.