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(written by YourOtherMotherHere in response to the poem Escapade)

blood-red pumps

tilt crookedly next to

blood-red drapes

where a pizza box of

blood-red checks

lies tossed on the floor by

blood-red hands

still twitching watched by

blood-red eyes

that gleam above

blood-red lips

smiling in anticipation of

blood-red leftovers.

I was thinking a vampire orders a pizza delivery the night before and almost drains the delivery guy who is so busy staring at her red pumps that he doesn’t have time to react. Now it’s almost time for her to go back to her coffin, but before she does, she’s going to have some leftovers.

All this because I like cold pizza for breakfast! (smiles)

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