Oh, you know her and have seen her wandering eyes
Her fidgeting
chest carrying a half palpitating heart
Half of it
is already so numb, more over thwart
Soul dripping
in ink too dark to make a baffled note
If she writes,
muddled letters stain the spotless sheet
She artlessly leaves
a mark where ever she steps,
But...Alas, as
fate would have it
Renaissance
never followed, what follows is only dearth
Vulnerability
is so juicy,
Melting on
your tongue, as
Mozzarella on
pizza crust
Little Cherub
becomes a malicious mammoth,
Cheesecake so
richly silk to make you hover
Don't tell me
that you have no desire to taste it
You know it
shall rouse your dead leach senses
Instigate you
Entice you
Incite you
Linger to your
sedated mind, enveloping it in a cocoon of succulent pleasure
Chef-d'oeuvre,
a magnificent feast to dine upon
Be an unprejudiced
basilisk, suck away all her aching breaths, but,
Look for the juice
dripping from your smoldering smirking lips
For staining
the chenille might leave a sign of your scrupulous sin
Do let me know
once you are done with that aphrodisiac THING
Is she still taking
that vicious agony stricken lurching Breaths in?
Is she still alive?
Anyways, Bon Appétit...
Chenille- velvety fabric
Cherub-an innocent child looking angel with wings
Basilisk- a mythical reptile whose look or breath could kill***
