Skin, dark as the night sky.
Rounded daggers highlighted by hair,
the colour of frost with the softness of silk.
Whispering its secrets,
Whispering its warning.
Do not come any closer.
It scratches but doesn’t stab.
Stings, but does not bleed.
it fears ruining a flower so pure.
But all thats needed-
is a scrape.
A tiny little prick.
Why didn’t you listen?
Can you taste the poisonous tang
as it travels through your body?
You should have listened,
to the secrets it shared.
Because some secrets-
are deadly.
– Ashleigh Tucker
A.L.Tucker 