tagNon-Erotic PoetryFrosty the Bogeyman

Frosty the Bogeyman


Its head rotated toward
his window now,

the carrot jutting
like a crooked arrow,

the fedora
rakishly tipped,

twig arms
sporting claws,

its smile lascivious,
its red pupils

dying embers in
coal black eyes,

hungering for
the boy’s fleeing warmth.

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byoneiria© 3 comments/ 1438 views/ 0 favorites

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