Provoking thoughts gleam in her eye. She's spun her web too deep. Before her, all her lovers die. Her poison starts to seep.
She takes great pleasure in her act. Seducing many men. Into her web they wander. And are never seen again.
Her story has eight legs to it, And plenty of odd spins. The black widow they call her. Queen of a thousand sins.
Targeting her victim closely, He's worth a one-night stand. Before it reaches morning, His blood is leaking 'cross her hand.
A black dress with a white chest, That white has now turned red. Her innocence has disappeared, Embracing lovers as the bled.
Adrenaline is rushing. She's waited long to catch this prey. Using the same methods. She's quickly swept away.
Racing fingers down her body, He seems to know which notes to hit. She moans in pleasure and surprise, To his handsome charm and wit.
Cradling her gently, Until she fell asleep. He took out his septic blade. And slowly let it creep.
Toxic blood escaped each vein, He looked at her and grinned. Looking at their wedding picture, His thoughts were carried with the wind.
Turns out she was never a widow. She planned it to happen that night. Her husband looked down at his blouse. And saw it was no longer white.
Putting on his black tux. His eight legs grew out again. Who told you that black widows, Couldn't be men?
[.Dieing.Inside.] · Sat Feb 17, 2007 @ 07:49pm · 0 Comments |