You can only look at her and get tongue tied
as your mind
That girl over there in that short skirt
wearing those black
thigh highs and garters, along
with sharp heels that could most definitely hurt.
Oh, and when she smiles,
A storm walking, dream of a nightmare on the prowl.
she exudes, the magicalicious
way she crosses the room.
It’s not fair I tell you.
No simple mortal stands a chance.
For they are all in thrall.
Pupils dilated to drink her in.
Lips wetted just in case of a kiss
Let’s not forget,
her charmtrap of a stare,
dark eyes that scream you fucking
better be aware
Because I’m here,
“I’m always on when I’m out, and you
look pretty cute,”
she almost seems to whisper
just to you.
Even though you are nowhere near her in
She’s got a confoundous amount of play
in what that grin directed
“Hey, I spy with my little eye,
a guy I might let take me for a little drive tonight.
does he even have the key, let alone the gas
to get me there where I need to be?”
I jingle my keys as the
bojangle in me wants to bodangle
with you in so many delicious
I take your hand and lead you
home, climb the stairs,
and close the door.
The stars are forgotten
as the man in the moon seeks
to peek in my room to learn a
thing or two of what
I am about to do to you and
by Philip Wardlow 2017