Editor's ChoiceMusingsPoetry

Femme Fatale

don’t look,
no, don’t try..
you’ll get hooked
just like your predecessors

okay, maybe just a sip
son of man thought,
in his lust-filled heart

and here we go,
daughter of Adam thought
in her crimson shade heart.
beating, for fresh blood:

dark skinned
like rich ebony,
the light making her seem bronzed

she moves effortlessly
coils, and recoils
like a boa constrictor
you feel her eyes watching you closely,
closing in on your heart
making you stiff with want.

she is magic
she doesn’t have to speak
you can feel
she is not the ordinary
she is SHE
the very one,
your mama warned you against

she continues her charade
hair flipping everywhere
like your thoughts
they are everywhere
you’re thinking of everything
your mama warned you not to think

she stretches a leg
toned and visibly soft
yet strong and capable
tippy pointy toes,
you dream of suckling those toes…

with your jaws on the floor
she attacks
she is vicious
just like her eyes,
lined perfectly with mascara

she reduces you to nothing
As you lay there,
a mess of semen and unfulfilled emotions
she feels your pulse and smiles
and like a fox,
she digs a nail in

rich dark red and splurging
she dives in,
gets her fill
and whispers to her victim,
“I Am Not An Object”

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