My Muse Poem by Th3 Rav3n

She is sin. She holds back nothing.
Covering hardly any skin. Leather, fishnets, she sure is something.
Her dancing is comparable, to a Molotov thrown in the dead of night.
My feelings for her became unbearable, and with a single touch, a fire of passion did ignite.
She takes my offer, and I watch her kneel down.
She leans in toward me, oh how I just want to pin her to the ground....
She holds out her hand, and I take it in mine.
And after a single brush of my lips across it, she pulls it slowly back, bringing me in like a fish on a line.
Someday...she will be mine