Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Pride Month 2021, Writing

Tasting A Trader

I danced and drank with somebody’s daughter,

as the rich district of my town went down in flames.

Light lined the streets and reflected off of her eyes,

and I was lightheaded, lost in the idea that a new world was about to start,

because she has started to undress me,

and wealth spilled into the streets like the teardrops of their former masters.

She had cerulean eyes and a bottle of champagne in each hand,

until it was dripping off the curb,

down her shirt and into my cleavage,

and then her hands were full of me,

and she tasted so extravagant.

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