I live with a murderess.
A cold-hearted, loves-the-taste-of-blood-in-her-mouth, murderess.
A Black Widow of sorts.
I can’t claim innocence in the knowledge of her murderous ways.
I watched her sneak out, cloaked in black magic, scaling shadows.
Her destination, unknown, but I knew she was up to no good.
She has everyone fooled.
Her wide-eyed stare and come-hither sway,
melts the hearts of all who are honored by her presence.
Maybe that’s how she lures in her prey?
All silk and naivete’.
Stealthy and suave.
But if one looks closely, clues of her dominatrix are abundant.
The hint of a limp, a slice through the ear-
Battlewounds for sure.
A carnal bloodbath must ensue.
Her conquest, fighting for another chance at daylight.
But, victorious she is.
Victorious and proud.
I know because she leaves her trophies on my doormat.