Seduction

Her throat is a fire, she thaws my tongue
Her skin is palatable and I've been stricken

Her fangs graze my heart
there are no more beats, but only whats she grants
She impedes my breath with scores of her own

Time has been rifted through the movements in her eyes
pre-eminence is crafted through the glint of her smile

Her finger tips are poison, a heroin which I crave
Her hair is but tendrils and now I've been enslaved

From the inside we touch, and for the moment I believe
but she is not such, I know she will leave

Reviews

[Lori]

I love the intensity of this poem. It really gets under the skin (in a good way). Such a femme fatale you describe!