My Empty Bottle

A form so perfect in a gown so pure, a title of lace drenched in the scent of allure…
A shape so flawless, on a frame so light.  You lift all my little troubles so far away…
You steal my every night.
A head so heavy with a bottom so solid. You are the hint of delusion- you are the remedies’ sorrow.
You are a taste I have known too well… my gateway to paradise. My promise of Hell.
The last of my loved ones. The oldest of thieves. The voices of insects, and children, and accusers are hung on the breeze.
When I put out these hands, when I open this mouth, you are my hollowness. My season of Doubt.
My empty bottle… you’re a tease and a show. You only care to please my tongue when it satisfies you to do so.
And who knows your desires? Who can know your will? My flawless, empty little bottle…
My cheap, lonely thrill… It is I who swallowed your soul. I am the glutton for whom you’ve been spilled.

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