The Hunt
Her face is a lightning strike
with prowling eyes
and razor sharp lips,
her tongue a dagger for an unfortunate heart.
She will kiss like an angel
with a viper's sting.
This is a dangerous love,
a scent that will not be denied.
Those hunting eyes pierce my swaggering shield.
The blood is up.
I am primed for the chase.
Hungry for the kill.
poem by Ronald Shields
Added by Poetry Lover
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