Painted Toes

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Starlight risen from the dead,
played rock melodies
inside her head.

Paint swirled across the bed
as the brush
slipped from her teeth.

Liquid whore in a bottle
it might have said
instead of five alarm engine red.

Friday night brings infamy
as the Greek chorus
sings of her descent.

Each thigh a risen loaf of bread
over each painted, spread,
starlight pulses overhead.

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vrosej10vrosej10over 14 years ago
~

The "liquid whore in a bottle" line is brilliant. I am not unfond of liquid whore myself. This poem sounds like my last date.

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