She made it a habit of staying hidden away,
Tucked quietly behind the noise and the chaos...
A tiny, little cherub bush crushed by the shadows
Of mighty oaks and towering spruce trees.
But those who knew, saw her.
They understood that this tiny bush of a girl
Was, in fact, an angel's trumpet...
Seemingly spineless but poisonous to touch.
She stood in the shadows, watching and waiting,
Preoccupied with the man without gloves.
He studied her, admired her, approached her
Because he understood that closeness was worth the bite.
Her eyes held stories that would never be told,
And he fixated on the delicate shape of her mouth...
On her warm breath that spilled out like a powerful elixir
That could will a dying man back to life.
How could he ever survive that longing
To reach out and touch someone so delicious?
Her soft skin gliding beneath her clothes,
Silken and smooth, beckoning, a fiery seduction.
In another lifetime, in a far off place,
Their souls knew each other well.
They were not strangers at all then,
And he entered into her like a fantastical dream.
In her mind, they trembled together under his fingertips,
And the sweet taste that followed on her tongue
Was so powerful, it was more than enough
To split the Heavens wide open and conjure a storm.
These days, she would be called a Sadist,
Her emotional restraint sharp like a dagger
That pierced the hearts and souls of men
Whose lust remained loyal but chained.
She felt powerful when she was in control,
When she danced on the edge of ritual and reason,
This silent and beguiling womanly creature,
This absolute eater of men.
So when he approached her in the shadows,
Passing by all of the art on the walls,
Not noticing anything or anyone else except for her...
Without hesitation...she let him.
She was sure that he could handle her bite.
May 22
May 22, 2026 at 6:05 AM UTC
She made it a habit of staying hidden away,
Tucked quietly behind the noise and the chaos...
A tiny, little cherub bush crushed by the shadows
Of mighty oaks and towering spruce trees.
But those who knew, saw her.
They understood that this tiny bush of a girl
Was, in fact, an angel's trumpet...
Seemingly spineless but poisonous to touch.
She stood in the shadows, watching and waiting,
Preoccupied with the man without gloves.
He studied her, admired her, approached her
Because he understood that closeness was worth the bite.
Her eyes held stories that would never be told,
And he fixated on the delicate shape of her mouth...
On her warm breath that spilled out like a powerful elixir
That could will a dying man back to life.
How could he ever survive that longing
To reach out and touch someone so delicious?
Her soft skin gliding beneath her clothes,
Silken and smooth, beckoning, a fiery seduction.
In another lifetime, in a far off place,
Their souls knew each other well.
They were not strangers at all then,
And he entered into her like a fantastical dream.
In her mind, they trembled together under his fingertips,
And the sweet taste that followed on her tongue
Was so powerful, it was more than enough
To split the Heavens wide open and conjure a storm.
These days, she would be called a Sadist,
Her emotional restraint sharp like a dagger
That pierced the hearts and souls of men
Whose lust remained loyal but chained.
She felt powerful when she was in control,
When she danced on the edge of ritual and reason,
This silent and beguiling womanly creature,
This absolute eater of men.
So when he approached her in the shadows,
Passing by all of the art on the walls,
Not noticing anything or anyone else except for her...
Without hesitation...she let him.
She was sure that he could handle her bite.
