Razor Winged Butterfly

A glance here, a wink there
A quick smile in the hallway
A whispered compliment as she walk by
Stolen moments, untreasured and unappreciated.

The game of flirtation begins,
Not one, not two, not even a few,
That got entangled, by the webs
of deceit coated with sweet promises
The lull of happy ever after
is nothing but a game

The game of appearances and charms
Sweet words designed to entrap,
Soft caresses that ensnares
Game of jealousy and temptation
The lure of being all powerful
The puppeteer, the ringmaster
That plans and watch as it all plays out,
And leave as soon as the fun ends.

The game that is better left
To the cold hearted and cold blooded
For those who love too much
Cannot stand the pain
That cuts through the heart
and stays in the gut
The razor winged butterflies
Fluttering without ceasing
Drawing tears and blood...

Bewitched

A second, a heartbeat, a glance,
That is all it takes...for her heart,
to be hers no more


His magical eyes,
Filled with mysteries,
Burning with curiosity,
She is lost...in a labyrinth of darkness,
Trapped and tortured
with longing for what she can never have.


Drowning in a sea of temptation and lust,
Drifting...in a wave of his suggestive glances,
each soft peak of his tongue, against his rosy lips,
envelopes her with desire, imploring her to give in,
Yet, he played the fool, the poster boy of innocence.

Her unquenchable thirst for him,
Only deepens as clock ticks by,
Like an age old wine,
refined and enriched...but dark,
strengthened...by the love that never was and never will,
Yet... Undimmed and undying