Blood-taste

An empty office, and a pound coin
pressed between her lips,
still warm from shaking hands.

Soft skin of her lips caught
between the teeth bearing down,
the coin held tightly in place.

Saliva puddles, she blinks.
A metal clatter on the wooden desk.
An empty office and a swinging chair,
the door drifts closed.

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About abigailbaross

Writer and aspiring publisher
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