Subtle ruses she plays with unsuspecting hearts
With an alluring trace of flair
Never meaning anything at all to her
No focus is ever there

A touch, a smile, along with lingering glances
Quickly melt a naïve fool
Manipulating to gain what she is seeking
With her feminine wiles and tools

Such lovely promises are made unspoken
Yet loudly and out of turn
Emptying the pockets of those hearts unskilled
In avoiding manipulation’s burn

User, abuser, or master of her own show
Which one of the three
Is a question asked by many an observer
Watching the travesty

Perhaps one day, those old tables will turn on her
Shift where her wind does not blow
One who is wise, to her unspoken feminine plies
Will smile, while stealing her show