Seduction so smooth as lust takes over.
Sentiment has no place; they just want to stretch her.
Spreading out together like they’re on a stretcher,
no love, no romance, when they’re together.
They aren’t saints, but they love her holy water.
A scarlet fever burns within her.
Her lust insatiable and thirst everlasting;
a tempest storm of vehement luxuria and exhilarating ardor.
The zeal is unlimited, yet the love is lacking.
She sees crimson and the lines begin to blur.
At first, it was a rare, occasional thing,
now it’s all the time, changing desires of a personal fling.
I just pray that she prays while she’s down on her knees.
Her desire consumes her, as her life looks carmine,
she’s tongue and cheek with her tongue and cheeks.
Living a life of lechery as a little red corvette in the streets.
Her overactive ambition is amaranthine and not so amazing.
The redness has overtaken the blue,
she is now lost without a clue,
senseless with no one left to do,
while her ruddy heart doesn’t beat true.