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Cowboy In A Suit
There’s a mystique when a cowboy dons a suit,
A charisma so innate, it leaves me in pursuit—
Not of him, not lust’s unyielding snare,
But of the force that makes people stop and stare.
Like the wind, stirring dreams in those who dare.
He strides in, six-foot-two, with the gift of gab,
Words spinning webs, conversations like firelight.
How intoxicating to witness such command—
A lion prowling, hunger veiled in charm.
Alpha? Never declared, simply is.
Confidence unspoken, a grin that disarms.
No seams tailored, yet everything falls in line,
Cufflinks adjusted, tie straightened, perfection alive.
He surveys the room, a hunter’s eye,
Each step deliberate, the crowd his canvas.
But beneath this mastery lies something raw—
A student of power, yet to learn it all.
And me? I smile, knowing the secret—
For all his command, he could never ascend my throne.
To possess this essence, one must be born a woman,
My crown that was granted at birth.
Yet still, I watch, intrigued and undone,
By the mystique of a cowboy in a suit.
NP
A charisma so innate, it leaves me in pursuit—
Not of him, not lust’s unyielding snare,
But of the force that makes people stop and stare.
Like the wind, stirring dreams in those who dare.
He strides in, six-foot-two, with the gift of gab,
Words spinning webs, conversations like firelight.
How intoxicating to witness such command—
A lion prowling, hunger veiled in charm.
Alpha? Never declared, simply is.
Confidence unspoken, a grin that disarms.
No seams tailored, yet everything falls in line,
Cufflinks adjusted, tie straightened, perfection alive.
He surveys the room, a hunter’s eye,
Each step deliberate, the crowd his canvas.
But beneath this mastery lies something raw—
A student of power, yet to learn it all.
And me? I smile, knowing the secret—
For all his command, he could never ascend my throne.
To possess this essence, one must be born a woman,
My crown that was granted at birth.
Yet still, I watch, intrigued and undone,
By the mystique of a cowboy in a suit.
NP
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