she was a loaded gun,
cocked
& ready
to smile
men tripped triggers
on lips
that pierced wine;
willingly...
they drank her thirst
she danced shells,
calculated movements
steeling confidence
as events firmly
clicked
into place
& she
stalked,
stilettos primed
like hair triggers;
eyes zeroed in
on their measured effect
she smiled;
bullet lips bitten
to pierce
the soul
who would kiss her cartridge
first.







It's even groovier.
Well, you have hit the big time as a writer, then. 








33 old applause
