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Jul 2012
The sun sits high now, and I am but a man.
Though as time passes, the sun sinks and
my silver moon surfaces,
I become a hunter.

As the bartender splashes cheap liquor into spotted glasses,
I stalk quietly in the corner as a lesser man’s prey stumbles
drunkenly, clumsily across the sticky floor.

My eyes glide smoothly over the room,
evaluating my most promising prospects.

My eyes settle on one;
she sits proudly and respectably, and I watch my plan
unfold in my mind.

I will be charming, and convincing;
modest and self-depricating.

She will resist, at first, as they always do,
but the sincere look in my eyes will persuade her that
I am not “every other guy.”

She will fall head first into my pool of lies,
and tonight she will be mine.
And tomorrow,

she will mean nothing.
Kirsten Christine
Written by
Kirsten Christine
996
 
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