Day 3: Femme Fatale
365 Days of Poetry
Published in
1 min readMar 28, 2014
He poured a glass of Laphroaig 18,
Aged and smoky like Stradivarian whispers.
Her crimson lips and dagger tongue,
Inseparable from his thoughts.
“Femme Fatale…” he cautioned.
A wistful soliloquy.
