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Image for the poem Muse Fatale

Muse Fatale

He adores her fatal ways
Her style as she strokes his gun
Stepping back when he goes off
Catching his last angry shot

He discovers peace of mind
Recovery from another war
But she regrets libido lost
That which rendered her a whore

She crosses him, disturbs his peace
Coaxing him to new release
Those sorrows disinclined to drown
She laughs and swallows them right down.
Written by crowfly
Published
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