Mosquito

She sucks the last drop of blood
Out of his open vein
He sings in vain
A tune to ease
The pain
His arm drops unconscious
She hovers over the wound
She sucks the last drop of blood
Then fly in hurry to escape
His trembling fingers
Searching in anger
For the stinging spot
To scratch
He is still delirious
In last night fever
Of passion
Of drinks
Of brain cells retiring.

She sucks the last drop of blood
And leaves.

June 28, 2017

Advertisements

About alaindesade

Novelist, songwriter and philosopher. Has special interest in human relations, evolution of mind, inter-cultural complications, and the concept of God.
This entry was posted in poem, poetry, psychology, reflections, thoughts and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s