Smokey eyes and messed-up mascara
Rouge lips and a fake smile
You're in a sinfully tight black dress, sitting at the bar.
Back turned, head down you're nursing a glass of whiskey
In between your fingers a cigarette, long forgotten,
Its smoke enveloping your face.
I found you, my personal downfall...
my very own Femme fatale.
The eyes and lips that consume me with one precise move
I am forlorn and then I realise I can never have you.
You are miles away
Your melancholy and pain speak to me
All I want to do is run after you
I am too late.
Rouge lips and a fake smile
You're in a sinfully tight black dress, sitting at the bar.
Back turned, head down you're nursing a glass of whiskey
In between your fingers a cigarette, long forgotten,
Its smoke enveloping your face.
I found you, my personal downfall...
my very own Femme fatale.
The eyes and lips that consume me with one precise move
I am forlorn and then I realise I can never have you.
You are miles away
Your melancholy and pain speak to me
All I want to do is run after you
I am too late.
-
Author:
hana97 (
Offline) - Published: July 28th, 2022 10:08
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
Offline)
Comments1
Your choice of words is admirable.
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