I saunter slowly
Seeking out my prey
With big hollow
Eye sockets
I view the crowd
Weaving and grinding
To the beat beat
Of Music
He has succumbed
To the hell-song
Sexual melody
I watch him with her
That other Siren
And smirk-
She is nothing
No challenge as I
Sway my hips
Smiling
empty
Soul-windows
Consuming him in
The red haze of strobes
He is caught in my web
And we dance
To that rhythm
My Siren song
He means nothing
More than conquest
A woman’s victory
Sacrifice to my
Sexuality.
About the Creator
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A Few Moments More
You’ll give it one more minute, and then you’re headed back inside. It’s pretty chilly out, after all. Not that that’s a real issue - you’ve stood out here for longer, and in colder weather. The snow is nearly gone already; tiny, dirt-stained islands of the stuff form a shrinking archipelago dotting the sea of green that is your backyard. Striations of sunlight dance through the trees at the edge of the woods and paint the scene in a camouflage of brown, green, and gold.
By Gabriel Huizenga4 days ago in Fiction
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