I could feel it in every fiber of my being
The very essence of who I was
Shifting, transforming, melting
Under your glow.

My mouth hung slightly open
Unladylike, what a pity.
But you were so
Damn gorgeous.

In your tailored suit
With a crimson kerchief,
Top hat, and cane
I was drawn to you immediately.

In the deepest darkest corner
Of this dirty, dingy room,
We sat and discussed
Literature, musicians, and art.

You were there
Wholly and fully,
And still so
Damn gorgeous.

And as your perfectly crafted
Devilishly tempting lips
Caressed every syllable relating to Poe
To Mozart, to Warhol, I lost control.

I felt myself aching, gravitating,
Burning red hot, as if the fires of hell
Resided in the pit of my stomach
And were escaping through my eyes.

Ebony fingernails clawed at your clothes
Mangling, destroying, wrinkling
Your perfectly pressed
Virgin white shirt.

And that crimson kerchief did nothing
But get in the way of your ivory skin
And my ravenous, insatiable hunger
Driving me, pulling me from every angle.

You filled me, teased me, killed me
A thousand times over.
Filling me so full
I felt completely empty.

And as your perfectly crafted
Devilishly tempting lips
Caressed every inch of me
I felt myself slipping.

And found myself speaking
Of Poe, Mozart, and Warhol.
Your crimson kerchief perfectly placed
In stark contrast to your virgin white shirt.

Yet in your eyes, if I was not decieved
I saw a flash, a spark, a glimmer
Of temptation, of passion...
Of lust