Marauder
She lurks in the darkness waiting for her new prey.
Femme fatale was what she has been named.
Basking in the thrill of quite the title, she looks on
hungrily.
They all pass one-by-one, but none to appease her
taste,
None to drive away her hunger that devours her
insides,
None to take away the guilt of last night’s feed.
Their shadows trail them distastefully,
From that thought she could taste each one in her
mouth,
And none has soothed her palatal buds.
She waited and anticipated begging for the hunger to
be filled.
Then suddenly she smelt him, or felt him,
Or was it an him?
She could feel her senses heightened.
She felt the twig in her stomach broke,
She felt the fiend inside growl. And this was when she
decided this was it.
She stepped out from behind the clouds
and with a smile painted on her face,
she unleashed her coy and flirtatious demeanour.
By Zahirah Peynado
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