Poison

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Poison lives in my pillows,

and I’m surrounded by your spell.

Your fingers have posted their prints

through my door,

and have danced through my domain.

Nothing on my breathless body belongs to me,

when it’s covered by lacy, racy love.

I lay in lavender,

but there’s no escape.

Your whispers,

suggestive,

seductive,

and too damn loud,

are all around.

I don’t have eight hours,

not even one,

without your passionate poison in my ear,

and in my heart,

and in my soul.

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