Widowed
Her only talent is
To steal the dance
And so the beat begins.
Round and round
She turns to your tune
Loving the heady spin.
Hear her words
Pour forward from her
Intentions spilled too thin.
Her clutch for long straws
A quickening of heart
A desire burns to win.
A long year unites
Illusions of love
Pure mimicry is her sin.
Black magic fingers
Red lips share burnt breath
Whispers scorch his bare skin.
She's a snare!
A trap!
A pull from within.
It's so close
To true love I pause
At the twin.
But the mirror reflects
A scorpion's
Sting
Like a black widow spider
The wrong Queen
Slays her King
You should have made me
The song that you sing.....
I truly loved you
Copyright © Ruby Honeytip | Year Posted 2013
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