Some old random poetry

Rich ruby red running 'round her dyed palms
Filling fingers with fine flinty filigree
Entangling her, entrancing her, ensorcelling her
For making blood is easier than making love

I saw a golden face in a sea of white
Sparkling like some sort of divine ghouls
I called out for them, for maybe we can be friends
But all they do is cackle, and then vanish

If a hand holds another, and then let go
Are they still holding hands?
No one really knows unless they had once held a hand
And then had to let go

Swooping hand in a bold script
Marching across a dotted line
We could've done this easily
But you just had to press the case

A murky sky and a grumpy cat
She sat curled in a sodden pile
But then he invited her in to a warm house
And now she's dry and purring