she is a devil
in her vinyl
red cat of nine
tails
her mask
and hood,
her pitch fork
made of
wood.
she sizzles
as she gets near
you
slinking across
the room with
her tongue
out, her
lips wet
and red with
lipstick.
you see her
coming as you
sit in the
big chair holding
the remote,
flipping through
the channels,
comfy in
your striped
flannel
pajamas. ah oh,
you say.
did i forget
something?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment