Two horsemen are face to face in a standstill.

One donning all red representing the blood shed in war.

The other in all black representing the fate we are all promised.

These horsemen of the apocalypse wait their marching orders as tension fills the air.

They split apart the moment they can feel the action beginning.

They try to get enough distance to make the best attack whether its spreading as wide as possible and going for a full charge ensuring a blow as loud as it is violent or a miniscule amount for a more cunning attack. The littlest opening can ensure the most brutality.

Every part of them is trembling in anticipation to the point it feels like even the ground is shaking with them.

They wait for the command, any sort of sign the war is about to commence.

The one that controls both makes their movement.

It is decided it will be a quick attack.

Enough of an opening for two quick swings.

Let’s zoom out to see the slaughter.

We hear the strike come out in all too familiar phrase.

“I know”

This is not your traditional war, this is the verbal battlefield.

These aren’t the horsemen of the apocalypse you know and love, these are the red and black lips that draw people in and rip them apart.

If these horses spread wide, its an onslaught, an attack on every part of your psyche.

If they open just enough, its a stab to the metaphorical jugular.

Could I scream every action you’ve done and do death by a thousand cuts?

Seeing all the lacerations wouldn’t be the worst look I’ve seen on you but that’s Redgrave’s realm.

That’s not my style and we all know, style is very important to me.

I prefer the subtle approach.

I know is all it takes to get in your head.

This black lip does the cut.

This red lip mirrors the crimson downpour.

Zoom back in with the knowledge you know now.

The horseman are in place with every instrument needed for this verbal vendetta.

The barbed daggers that insure the pain lingers.

The poison to ensure each attack burns.

Bloodlust in their heart for one.

Duty for the other.

Last but not least, the ropes needed for when I want to do my worst.

The kind of verbal barrage that will tie you up, have the horses run opposite ways and pull you apart at both ends, simultaneously destroying every muscle, tendon, and your will to live.

I know is a simple phrase for most, for me its the long sustained torture before the final blow.

Let these lips slowly open and precisely pull you apart more than any bomb ever could then watch me go for the kill like I always do.

Tell me, are you ready to go to war with the woman that has more bloodlust than Ares and has killed death personified or are you going to do what else lipstick is for, hiding the fear and pretending like everything is fine?

For you, lipstick is a beautiful disguise, for me it is warpaint.