The smell of black butter ...
Rolling over mountain peaks
Swirling deep in valleys were rivers run deep;
It's a lovesick scent.
Uniting souls meant only to be passers by,
Passing time; sweet, black butter on your mind.
Feeling empty when the river dries,
Now the only thing wet is her eyes;
She waits for you.
Reminiscing of those black butter kisses
Sweet like midnight mists or Morning dews
The way they subdue; like a pythons bait.
Stealth mode swirling, barely touching
Kisses engulfing her in slow-mo
Oh you know what I mean!
Those Black Butter Dreams
Getting the best of me;
Yearning for the dream to become reality.
Lion Queen
About the Creator
Lion Queen
I demonstrate my pen name in every write. I’ve written all my life, and now take joy in bringing to life my words on the page through your imagination. I am grateful for the opportunity to publish my works to be seen by the world. Enjoy!!
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Two Wrinkles In Time
It is pointless to run, my darling, because sixty seconds ago, I will kill you. My blade will have sliced reality open right in front of you. It will have first pierced it as it would a bed sheet left hanging to dry, flapping in the wind on a Sunday afternoon. But the metal will have drawn a line in the air that the ghostly tear will have followed. Then I, La Dyablès, machete firmly in hand, will have emerged from what your mind, at the time, could only interpret as the other side of here—whatever that means to you. I know. I have seen that look on the faces of countless unlucky… clients. You will not have been the first nor the last to try and reneg on a riches for soul contract only to present this visage to me when I come to collect.
By Lily Séjor5 days ago in Fiction
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