My name
isn’t the sort of name dropped subtly
at dinner parties.
It’s more of an explosion
that rattles the composure
of red blooded men.
I am not
the kind of girl
you take home to dear old Mum.
She would never approve
of my carnivorous ways.
I never pretended
I was the woman of your dreams
That was an illusion you created
in a fit of misguided delusion.
I was not exactly kissed by Aphrodite,
so much as I was touched up
in the dark by a randy Aries.
Heaven is not a place in which I dwell
though I can take you there
if you desire.
My wings are caked with mud
and my Halo has holes
I wont be your Angel of the morning
Or even your Evening Star
But I can be the fire
that warms your sheets
in the dead of the night.
Birth sign: Scorpio
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