Mercury
He walks into the room like liquid mercury
Deadly yet mesmurizing to the eyes
He molds into every woman he touches
She will ever feel his smooth maleness
He seems to be placing orders for the night
Who will get to grace his bed of pleasures?
Tomorrow he slithers away like the spineless
disease he really is; life shatters around his wake.
Copyright © Doris Culverhouse | Year Posted 2010
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