The Woman in white

The lady in white

Waits by his bedroom door

She’s standing over his peaceful face

Waiting for her score.

It starts with a kiss,

Smooch, suck and a click,

One hit, one miss,

No worry, slurp and lick.

A few months later he can’t live without her

It should have ended when the night grew old

He never finds the heart to doubt her

The feeling stays as time grows cold.

Love is the smell of her hair on a rainy morning,

The taste of dew upon her thigh,

The light of her eyes in the darkness she gave you,

Pain and its irresistible high, sigh.

I’m not a lover,

I’m a bull stuck in her maze,

She draws the others in with her beautiful cover

And I kill them in the haze.

Love is a curse, long dead,

As she walks from door to door,

Puts a hand on his sleeping face,

And gives him nightmares as he snores.

He sleeps wistfully

Reality undoing itself at the seams,

The woman in white lies on his pillow now

And she whispers with a dreadful smile,

Good night honey, sweet dreams.