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She lives her life

In red and white

Like stripes on the sweet that bears her name

White by day

Hiding from those that seek to prey

On one so alabaster skinned

Timid, pure, reticent

Clad in nylon and wool

Peeking from behind her wire-rimmed glasses

Shying from the crowd

Finding comfort in her anonymity

Alone, yet not lonely

Content to stay in the shadows

Inviting no attention, no mention in despatches

Virginal woman of little consequence

On moonless nights, she prowls

And howls with the pack

In red, the prey becomes the predator

Seeking out the clubs and bars

Hair piled high, a lipstick slash

Of blood red, enticing

Eyes blazing as she surveys the herd

Skin-tight leather and lace defines her lust

Pulling in the dark, lips and hands at work

Breathing in the musky scent

Baring teeth, sharp and hungry

Bearing down on her quarry

Igniting emotions long held at bay

Releasing the torment of the weak

Sating her need, she feeds

Craven desires fulfilled

Her whole being bestows fire, ice, gravity

The sweetest release comes

Casting aside those she uses

Moving on, loving no-one

Monday comes, the marks

Hidden behind high necks and sleeves

Her fringe hides her eyes

The glint of weekend conquests twinkling

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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