by Onyx
Onyx is a rumor with lipstick for a pen. Their words haunt and mesmerize – a provocation or celebration, depending on who’s reading. What they can’t say out loud, they publish.
Content warning: strong language
The Cuntess Holds My Heart
The cuntess holds my heart, breaks it into shards,
Her eyes as crimson fueled by desire,
See through my soul, they’re tearing me apart,
She feeds on love, igniting our fire.
Her teeth sink deep giving pain and pleasure,
I become weak under her velvet touch,
Her kiss benights my soul, unholy treasure,
So, I bow down, but can’t give her much.
As I lie beneath her, soon six feet under,
Her scarlet thirst sets free a beast within,
Salvation is near, can’t help but wonder,
How a lovely rose can be a lethal sin.
Full of love, yet death is what she gives,
The cuntess drains my heart and so I’ll live.
Editor’s note: title censored with permission of the author.
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