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Feb 2013
She doesn't walk, she glides
Like smoke over water,
Like snow in the wind.
Poisonous, cold, but beautiful.

Every tap of her fingertips,
Every angry twitch of her lips,
Every subtle movement hits him like a tsunami
And he's drowning.

One of many.

She bats her eyes and a hurricane ensues,
Swirling above her.
The beauty of Heaven
And the destruction of Hell
At her beck and call.

Her lips part
And every breath on earth ceases.



Her words are precious
Tendrils of invisible perfection
Floating from one person to the next,
Until the globe knows exactly what she's said.

He doesn't dare blink.
Mustn't miss a moment.

Every man has felt her breath on his neck,
Every woman felt her knife in her back,
But they cannot hate her.
They want tot be her.

She is what we all wish to become.

Sensuality personified.
The epitome of temptation.

And so he sits and watches,
Drinking in her every movement,
Gladly absorbing her venom,
Letting it deep in his blood,
Until he can resist
No more.
Lexiconical Quinn
Written by
Lexiconical Quinn  Fort Collins
(Fort Collins)   
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