The Wolf
Falling for/ Falling prey. An inverse poem.
It was frightening then.
That look of pure desire,
Heated cheeks flushed to chin,
Eyes of molten fire.
.
A wolf escaping its darkened den,
Padding toward the rabbit’s briar,
Sardonic tongue sharply sanguine,
Toss me upon the pyre.
.
As if I had a choice of men.
Would I opt for hedonistic quagmire,
The things I can’t- the things I can,
Is my head the actual liar?
.
My life and limb became yours- when?
Untainted gift wrought to inspire?
Why do you love me again and again?
One's own personal rectifier.
.
It was frightening then.
That look of pure desire,
Heated cheeks flushed to chin,
Eyes of molten fire.
About the Creator
Rachael MacDonald
Avid Reader, Sometimes Poet, Occasional Writer, and searcher of truths often lost in the breaths between candy-coated lies.
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