Masked Twilight

February 11, 2015

perfection was an interpretation of her smile,

perception was the depths of her dimples

she let no one see but on the best nights,

the bartender would send her a cheeky wink

and she'd respond with a half smirk before

sauntering off, on the prowl to claim her next victim

Something wrong with this poem?

Replies are closed for this poem.

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.