An Act of Love
Oh!
How she could turn and
Bat those lashes.
That’s how she wooed him.
With big, attentive eyes
And steadfast diligence
To be with him.
(It almost reminded him of ‘the other her’)
In their heavy love making,
She tangled his heart strings her fingers.
Pulled
Him into one smouldering kiss.
Their bodies tangled into knots.
But one day he woke up,
Barely able to stand the red light of morning
He grimaced.
Her large frog mouth,
Grasping fingers,
Crumpled skin,
Grasping fingers,
All lost their appeal.
He recoiled and turned away,
The rift in their bed turned cold.
Like a snap of winter
Spoiling the harvest.
My take on Mao and Jiang Qing’s relationship (in a way reflecting a certain couple I know). This makes me sort of sick writing it but I haven’t posted anything in a long time so whateves G.
