The mistress and her heart are all alone and dressed in red, tendrils of hair slithering down her back, fitting to her spinal curve. weighted gold winks maliciously on her collarbone and chuckles from her fingers, whispering into her delicate ear. and don't you just wish you could but touch the nape of that ivory neck, blow softly against the ice of her skin. melt the tension in her shoulders and ease her into your empty arms, how they cry out for company and the comfort of her figure. she'll nibble and tease at your longing, letting it swell until it trembles with the multitude of words and sentiments that are hovering in the chilly air between your heart and her sly grin. she's got your 'i should've known betters' silenced and buried deep beneath your obsession, your conscience collared and obedient. her blood runs far too red for it to be sincere, it courses like a poison ready to kiss and tell. but who will you tell? you're tangled in her hair and wrapped around in her like the gold that's taunting you in her ear. your love is just another accessory she wears on her sleeve, it sparkles in her eyes and lures the yous to come. she's alone with her heart and dressed in red, how it flows away from her body in streams of crimson blood. you would kill for just a taste, like iron on your tongue.
