Femme Fatale

Ripped off fake lashes coated in the smell of temptation. A belladonna in knee-high tights wondering about the nature of life. 

Better left unsaid or better left forgotten. Sometimes it’s better to never let a thought in. 

If you want to know my deepest secrets, make sure to leave me speechless. I don’t want love that feels refined, I want what cannot be defined. I want that sapiosexual curiosity of a brilliant mind. An unfulfilled desire of a relationship sniper. 

You speak so well without a care in the world, with the soulless eyes of another flirt. The night always ends with fragile affection. Is this sympathy or another distraction? Leaves turn black from the charcoal of your breath. You’re a guest, not a permanent resident of my head. Just like that you’re gone and I forget. Only your voice, like a smoker's cough, lingers in the throat. Raspy like a raspberry; it’s gross. I lose interest all over again. That was the plan, to run, so I ran. Right back into your arms just because I can.

Still I ache like a soul with nothing to gain, bleeding outside of the vein. Hydrochloric dystopian mess, but men will never leave me stressed. In your rawest most rational mind, tell me, what do I do with the expressions I mime? Flood me with your second hand thoughts, where the love you seek is finally enough. Leave me tongue-tied in the rough, and let fatality run its course.

20.11.2025