Death Comes

Death Comes

By J. Lynne Moore

Red lingered on the lip,
A sigh…then one last sip.

Ivory sparkles beneath,
Crimson gums…teeth!

Copper wafting in the air,
Sure to make the nostril flair.

Supper served,
on a porcelain neck.
Sorry, my dear,
there’s no rain check.

Hug the light…if you can;
When fear paints the night cyan.

For shadows flow…oozy ink…
And death comes in a blink!

© 2016 -2017 Cashmere /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved

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