and her eyes heavy with self hatred,
Began to close....
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S U B C O N S C I O U S B L I S S
John's hair was a lustrous shade of silver,
John's skin was ghostly and pale,
John's lips were cherry red, as they puckered in prurience
Every kiss,
Every touch,
Sent the courtesan into a nirvana of solace.
She wasn't used this kind intimacy,
Caring, femme to homme.
Yearning clouded her thoughts of confusion.
All she could think about was John.
She felt cared for and coddled.
God had finally sent her a lover that made her feel loved;
He had answered her prayer.
She was wrong, life did have a purpose,
Love was real,
happiness is a goal.
Abruptly, she was wrenched from her bliss,
and forced to retreat into the reality.
As she rose to sit up,
Something dripped on her face.
Thinking it was just water from the leaky roof,
she wiped it off.
Only, as she brought her hands back into her lap,
they were stained with red.
When she looked up to see the source,
The courtesan was met with scarlet words that had an inevitable consequence:
"BEWARE THE IDES OF MARCH"
