Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Lover, I Don't Play to Win

The autumn crocus; standing proud with death at its feet.

Remember, a glimpse will last a lifetime, a taste would cost one, but for the raven it would not suffice, so it traded its wings for a nose and paws to dig with.

And for a moment she was gushing between his teeth; violet and sticky and sweet. He wanted to howl but she had stolen his voice. He tried to run but he no longer had feet.

In came the raven flapping its wings, Was it worth it? it said.

Yes, cried the wolf, yes, yes, yes.