Razor Sharp Skin

I say to you, “where the fuck have you been all my life? With your razor sharp skin and eyes of silk. Did you not dream I was alive and in yearning? Could you not feel my pain throughout the years, and across the landscapes and oceans between?

And you grinned with hideous radiance as you drew your lipsticked cigarette’s last breathe. With heart aflame, I watched its essence and my own float to the ground at your feet. Your stilettos crushing me into the earth. Concrete, tapping in echo of you. Ecstasy sought. Ecstasy tasted. Faintly. Fleetingly. The tapping remained, click click clicking like crabs on the beach’s sunken rocks. Your cigarettes’ corpses resting, like tiny white skulls littering the sand around.