(the last sitting)

Shredded ice on a hanger

In the closet. The heart lays to rest 

In remembrance of war crimes

Committed by yours truly.

Hosts

Are present at every corner.
Reminders
Of a soul burned with
Pleasure.
Retreating,
Giving away its
Strength.
Surrendering
From its owner.
Worn out from the exquisite
Pain of love, or something like it.
Heart tempts its fate often.
I risk its delicate state for my own
Satisfaction. 

Soon I will posses another toy
At my fingertips and I will need
It at its full potential.