Wet red eyes and a self conscious look away, a glittering glimpse into the dark side she harbours behind those lids.
Shaken.
Stitched.
Sore and sewn shut.
Sheepishly she breaks contact from a gaze or locked glance, but her body language gives her away.
Angular.
Strong.
Sharp and composed.
But too sly and too smooth to be seen.
You see her nervous lashes bat like fans in the heat,
But behind them lurks a beast.
She moves like a predator stalking her kill, the taste of the blood on her lips. She disguises her intent with a brush of her hair hanging soft and limp by her cheek.
She doesn’t yet know where her instincts will lead to so she strings you along on a whim. Like a cat with a mouse she toys with your feelings without a touch of regret for her sins.
Innocent and unaware. Darling, if you knew what ruin your whispers could bring.
An adventure to a narcotic curiosity, she slips close and holds her warmth firm to your skin, she guides her lips to rest upon yours, delivering a kiss more deadly than the urge that it brings.
Breathless.
Confused.
Lost for words or concern.
She smiles. She turns. She walks away,
Leaving only a trail of white lotus petals in her wake.
The fragrant aroma of her hair hangs around my front door,
The taste of her lips remains mine forevermore.
