The lady in red

in the midst of men in black
suits,
a lady passed in a red dress,
a red clutch embellished in,
red beads in wavy patterns,
her feet riding on blood red,
highly scandalous prada stilettos,
and her lips elegant and
versatile,
on that glossy red galia lipstick,
her short red dress made the
heads,
robotically turn in a preset
unison,
and their mouths drooled,
and their hearts did race,
and in a black casket lay a man,
that could tell of this femme
fatale,
that walks in red and calls on a
red cell,
that writes on a red pen,
of love and hearts on arrow
heads,
but all for her kiss he lies rotting,
tasted the lips  that did spell
death,
and as the sun sets and night
calls,
another lust filled fool shall bed
her,
and at the break of dawn,
there will be one more less,
black suit,
and not many shall ever know,
what swept him away...
but the lady in red..