girls with guns

 
 
the human creature is an odd kind of animal.
they say every man is a little bit woman, & every
woman stashes a male trigger in her gears, to armor  
her heart & pull the reins in on those stampeding  
emotions. it’s a hermaphroditic theory.
 
me? if I ever had a little lady doing the pre-menstrual
tango inside me, she leaked out thru the missing rib
I inherited from Adam. she’s laid out on a cold slab in
the city morgue.
 
I’ve always been a 100% dominant alpha, pursuing
delicate Belle Epoque beauties with eyes full of  
glittering stars & the scent of primroses.
until I collided with Hannah.
 
Hannah. beautiful in a Nazi storm trooper kinda way. she  
was made of steel icicles, & her romance was strictly gothic.  
she was the assassin of love. she did time in heartbreaker’s  
prison, & she had the tats to prove it: daggers thru bleeding  
hearts, a Smith & Wesson arsenal, deathshead in false eyelashes  
& cherry bomb lipstick. maybe it was the colors that drew me.
 
the simple provocation of her touch made me feel like Denny Colt
in his little black mask, ragged & beaten, tied to a chair in those
old Eisner illustrations, a gorgeous femme fatale stooping to kiss  
him before she killed him.
 
when she eased her lips onto mine, I could taste the absinthe
poisoning my discretion. & her bites were never titillating, they were
just painful. sex wasn’t a casual indulgence, it was a strategically
planned war, on a battlefield of satin sheets & Faberge clouds.
 
she demanded the servitude of my willing mouth & hands to the
hotspots of her naked flesh: hard cerise nipples to be mauled,  
plump & firm ass that required severe discipline, the pulsating
ruby that reigned like a fiery queen within her cream sherry petals,
& swelled with the razor caress of my teeth.
 
she held me captive in the sweet torture chamber of her arms & the
unholy grotto between her thighs, to know the exquisite torment of  
an exploding sun, & the bitter truth of my shameless surrender.
 
 
.....fog hangs like a vaporous shroud over the saloon that offers a
brief sanctum from Hannah’s vengeful eyes. a few shots to steady  
my nerves, & a prayer that maybe she’ll never embrace me again,
if I keep running…