Femme Fatale
Perfection,
As your femme fatale walks into existence.
With eyes like that, there is no resistance,
No steering away or meeting halfway,
Her coloured eyes and deadly stare,
As you are forcefully pulled into her sinful lair.
You try to avoid the Siren song,
But deep inside, you love it,
Crave it, enslaved by it, nurture it, self-torture,
Enjoying every moment as it cuts deeply through,
A pain and pleasure you once never knew.
This is Medusa,
A work of art made with the demon's tools.
This is an hourglass,
With a perfect shape, but also a ticking timer,
As the burden gets heavier the longer you're with her,
She's numbering your days as the sand quickly transfers,
To your drenching heart, she is the only saboteur.
This is angelic,
With golden hair and a timeless physical relic.
This is demonic,
Her song harmonic, her punishment tectonic.
She is the ground of all being,
And she'll encompass and crush you whilst she is freeing.
|