She was thigh high silk lined poetry wearing **** me stiletto heels with words that slowly drizzled from burning wickedness made of lust and wax and her fingernails carved whispers of desire along his spine and split open the seams of his simple wants and filled him with desperate needs and he was completely consumed with a hunger to peel off the poetry she wore over her skin with her lace and lingerie and she poisoned his reason with her venomous lips and she molded and carved his flesh into hard wood and turned him into her marionette and tied him with leather whips and controled his every move and made his fingers and tounge explore the space between the words along her thighs and he wrote his name along her silken verse of vice and she pulled his strings hard and made him need her just a little more and somewhere in the blur of blood and sweat he became forever hers