Friday, July 2, 2010

Trigger


His eyes are the trigger
each glare holds her captive
The stare is mysterious
A sense of man with a touch of power
It is this she finds most intriguing

His movements are concise
sharp and crisp like the clothes he wears
A smile knows not his face
yet is hidden under his skin

A clich├ęd bad boy
She feels drawn
compelled to wonder
longing to touch
Curiously

He draws her near
and she is swept
Clean are the fantasies she once craved
His lips touch hers
and the deal is sealed

The trigger was finally pulled

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