The Red Door
The door was an exit, to my head, to my heart.
It caught me in its hands, and refused to let me go.
Eyes became my drug, gazing into my pleasure center, overpowering me.
I stand in the dark, awaiting for the next queue, for my second, my third hit.
Red Blood stained petals and smoke filled air caress my wet skin, and the eyes still stare.
When the drugs are gone, the stage is my home.
The door is my shelter and my heart remains unbroken.

~BB~ 10/13/08

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artqueen5
Poetry
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Miss Beth ~"Escape with Me"
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