Devil’s night

Posted on October 31, 2010 by

She rose from the grave, sinews glistening, flesh drawn taut, eyes missing, but not needed for this. His scent she knew, intimate nights, lusty days entwined round his promises, love, devotion, given to many others, all lovely, all soft and yielding. She rose, remembering the sensation, the shock of sliding in, the sheer ecstasy, the pulsing muscle glowing iron red, juicy, drained husk. She told him, before the chemicals stopped her heart, she told him she would return his love. She always kept her promises. Cross her heart and hope to die.

About Brian

There once was a poet named Brian who roared as loud as a lion he lived in central Florida with cats and a wife and always found time for lying Writers always lie, or at least create a truth meaningful only to them. My name is Brian, I do live in Florida and am very happily married. I consider myself a poet rather than an writer, my coffee table blog is called "My Muse, My Poetry, My Life" located at while my main blog is titled "Truth Is Freedom". I am also the self-published author of a novel, "Real Magic", available online through Amazon and have several unfinished drafts floating around for other books. On occasion I write spanking and discipline fiction but mainly I post poetry and short fiction at my blog. My readers tell me I have a gift for bringing characters to life. It has more to do with being a multiple personality. Internal dialog is quite normal for us.
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