Trappings...

Brusque lips, long legs and sultry eyes...of all these things I most despise...

These trappings of the mind, body and soul... always touching and never letting go...

This muse, she sings to me, only invites tribulations... Not with-holding her own inhibitions...

Tangled by her web of trust, I'am only to be lead...by her scent, her prose, her insatiable appetite for blood, and lust...

The smile she manages with little grace...which NO wealth or fame could ever replace...

Her Stockings and O' Lace litter my space... her foot-prints through out the house I hopelessly trace...

I find her lying in bed, camouflaged in blankets instead, waiting for me to caress the soft gorgeous hair on her head...

A Funny thing just came to mind, I've been here, quietly lying next to her, all this time.