Hour 8 – La Fée Verte

Prompt for Hour Eight

Her breath tastes of stale apples
Her eyes shine like last night’s moon
When she talks of sweet nothings
The corner of her mouth pulsates playfully

Her eyes shine like last night’s moon
When she dances like a homeless cloud
The corner of her mouth pulsates playfully
Death comes and goes, I’m not home

When she dances like a homeless cloud
The rain sing songs to her dark hair
Death comes and goes, I’m not home
Time stops in heaven

The rain sing songs to her dark hair
Her breath tastes of stale apples
Time stops in heaven
When she talks of sweet nothings

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