Eloquent realms of the summer stench,
Caress the mind on a seaside bench.
Footprints of fiends on the watered sand,
Reflect the fire never seen on land.
Faint, the sound of the simmering sight,
In cold blood she killed and painted it white.
Flags of the founders fluttered in salute
Her eyes were staring at all that was absolute.
A tear rolled collecting the dust on her face. It settled on her jaw and started to evaporate. Another one followed the same stream. It traveled the distance like it was known territory. Her lips were shrouded. She plucked the withering skin on it with her teeth. She chewed on it and she smiled. The dark toned skin under her eyes, gave her comfort. That skin made her feel alive. Responsive. She was not numb. Not yet.
The scent of blood lingered in the air. She inhaled the stench as she clutched her fists. She wanted to capture that victory in herself. She wanted the smell to permeate her skin and her sweat. Like the smoke of the cigarette that still kept still between the corner of his dead lips.
A table stood partially above the carcass. On the table, a half eaten piece of meat and a glass full of wine lay witness to the pornography. With her calm steady, and in fact, quite pretty hands, she fetched the glass and took a sip. She seated herself on the half sewn chair and bent down; her face, staring at his. With a smirk, she guided the cigarette from his lips to between her fingers. Ash fell on his grounded face. She sucked on the cigarette butt.
Soon, worms shall have a hearty meal,
Serene music will export the feel.