Her Every Desire
Her Every Desire
She is like the gangrel bat
All dead tails
Paled
And white lace
Black painted fingernails
Softened by whimsical’s
Wide eyed
Over a thin lip tea cup
She smiles
Reading the leaves of a bedraggled misfortune
Your own
Over purple velvet cloth
Where many a throat
Has stained its last
She simpers
Tittering on her be-witch-craft
Flashes bedeviled laughs
Behind the net and beaded veil
The glint of eyes as cold as steel
The last drunken fool you
Of the roadside café
Does not sense the spindle legs
Creeping in a shadows pool
By final cast edge of window light
A frantic dagger clutched to her breast
In the crypt chill of her black tattered dress
“May I read your fortune?” she says
She holds out her palm white spider web
You see the crimson painted lips
The soft swell snow of her rising breasts
As wide come hither pupils beckon
And the vodka thinks it’s a pass for sex
You’re taken in
On the promises of that low cut dress
And into her vice your upturned hand is pressed
Her sultry whisper lingers on a hiss
“Oh tonight’s your lucky night yessssssssssssssss
“You are going on a journey yesssssssssssssssssss” she says
“Uhuh mmmmm you will forefill her every desire
“In a room of purple and red yessssssssssssssssssss
The alcohol distillation of your senses
Has no apprehension
And that cocky self surety lets her lead you from the room
Out into the thick dank chill
Of a Halloween night
“Yesssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss”
Copyright © Colin Mitchell Williams | Year Posted 2009
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