The Wolf

Dark eyes gleaming, across the room a cobra's blackness, hypnotic in the gloom seizing the attention of her wine drenched mind he always does so well, with this kind Wicked smile glinting, across the table teeth like the wolf's from an ancient fable nibbles at the verges of her world wearied heart; he now makes his move, which he's planned from the start Magnetic charms tingling, across the space a warm flush of blood begins rising to her face her voice gets husky and her fingers quiver, she feels a rush of delight with a sudden shiver Strong hands touching then, across the bed in this darkened place, where she's been led the prey's now his; the feast begins he smiles again, with his lupine grin No emotions are shared, across these souls no passion; each but plays their role the hunter and the hunted must ignore their hearts, when they choose lust