Poetry/Betrayal

That cold dark night

I found myself

In the tavern

Half awake

Eyelids heavy

Skin against metal

Heavy sighs

Slumber beckons

A cold hand slithers

Twisting and turning

Rests on the small

Of my back

Back here again?

He says

Breath heavy

Raspy, grating

How much?

Name your price

The cool spheres

Litter the table

Outstretched hand

Crawls over the

Wine-soaked surface

Stopping, split-second

Dull throbbing

Pulsating veins

Protrude the temples

Tinkle a requiem

Serrated edge

Bores deep into

Paper thin palms

Pour forth the wine of your palms