Where Her Tongue Left Ice
by Dawg
She didn’t knock, she didn’t breathe—
slid through the door with a chill beneath.
Licked my skin like a name she knew,
whispered in silence what knives won’t do.
She licked death and wore it sweet,
with every kiss, my pulse grew weak.
No fire, just frost and bone—
she took me slow and left me alone.
No clothes, no light, no plea for more,
just skin on ice, my back to the floor.
She sucked out warmth and left a scar,
I swear I saw her tongue write stars.
I begged in sweat, I came in dread,
alive in body, but half of me dead.
Now mirrors fade and nights don’t sleep—
I feel her breath when the cold runs deep.
She licked death, didn’t blink or cry,
left her taste in the corner of my eye.
No love, no mercy, no second try—
just a kiss that froze me halfway to goodbye.