TREES OF CRYSTAL: Marigold

TREES OF CRYSTAL: marigold
And I hate the way they smell, ripe with betrayal and secrets to tell, lacking a backbone, headed straight to Hell because they believe-
That simply saying it makes it true, I am beyond sick and tired of you, I am steadily overlooking my cue to walk away
It grows larger and larger each day and the end is beginning to fray, loosely tied, a slipknot ballet, twitching and breathless
And trees of crystal line the path between safety and the bloodbath, I’m a reddened wall, the aftermath of bludgeoned life
With imagined betrayal, he was outright rife, it is why he still gripped the knife, slick and dripping with hematic strife; what had pulsed within her
But her heart’s still fluttering, it’s astir, even as the black and whites purr against the curb, red and blue lights demur any sense of well-being
Because, for them, there is no foreseeing the consequences of her disagreeing, they didn’t see his concrete guaranteeing that she would pay
There’s just nothing that she can say, descriptive words could never convey the hatred writhing within the way his eyes promised her
That worse than punctures will assuredly occur before he will ever “allow” a spiritual transfer, that the lines between life and death are the ones he can blur and without feeling
Anything though she is left reeling, under moonlight, on wet dirt, she’s kneeling, in this position, he almost finds her appealing, but it’s not enough
And in the low light, she can see one metal cuff, a well-worn blade, and his quiet voice is gruff, he exhales a warm Marlboro puff… “I thought you told me you liked it rough..”
There is no way to safely outbluff, to feed him words of lace and feather fluff, the breath leaves her lungs in a panicked huff, oh, this is it…
He is a bottomless pit of the atrocities to commit; bite and beat and slash and slit, “It’s what you deserve.”
Simply and solely to unnerve, his eyes trace along her every curve, nothing about her worthy of reserve, he’ll take her apart
She left a taste on his tongue that’s tart and he has punishment to impart, justice will be served, his actions his art and they’ve all been fooled
And where it’s darkly pooled, her blood has thickened and cooled, around his fingers, her tresses are spooled like strands of gold
She did say she never wished to ever grow old, he helped her, truth be told, he did what was right, what was needed, what was bold…
His eyes the shade of marigold

L. L. Flores