A darkly seductive poem where lust, fear, and memory collide. Ramta Warrier explores the tension between creation and destruction, between beauty that heals and the hands that wound.
Finger on lips, Hushing the devil Hips that sync, The music I fear Sins of the past, My skin she unravels Manicured Nails, Cutting what I hold dear Knock on my door, Her luscious curves White pale skin, Red plum lips Cursed to an eternity, She freezed my nerves Drops of lust, gliding her hips "Leave me alone!", I cried out loud Her seductive hands calming me down Between her legs, The heaven I bowed Deep in her, my vulnerability her crown Beads of sweats, her warmth a slaughter I saw death , Her eyes turned red Nails dug deep, In my collar Blood oozed out, Blood red my bed Finger on lips, Hushing the devil Hips that sync, The music I fear Sins of the past, My skin she unravels Manicured Nails, Cutting what I hold dear
Enjoyed this piece?
Inspired to share your own story? Submit your work to be featured in Written Tales. We’re here to showcase your voice and talent.
✨ Members: You can submit for free.
Non-members: You can submit with a small fee to help support future issues.
→ Submit Your Work (Members)
→ Submit Your Work (Non-Members)
📖 Join the conversation and explore more stories, poems, and ideas.
→ Explore the Magazine
✍️ About the Authors
Ramta Warrier is a poet, painter, and classical dancer who channels emotion through movement and language. Her work explores beauty’s dual edge: the grace that heals and the passion that consumes.
Become Part of the Tribe
Your support fuels the creativity of our community. Subscribe today to get full access to exclusive works, writing tips, and a tribe of passionate creators.


