Day 4: 4th April 2015 NAPOWRIMO
Those Kohl lines eyes, could kill with just a glance
The long velvety back hair, capable of ensnaring souls
Half parted red lips, flashing a mocking smile
It was enough for anyone to die for,
Some called her slut, some called her whore.
Femme Fatale, they named her.
Trapped in her charm, enamoured by her beauty.
Once they stepped in, they never returned whole.
She would keep a part of them, in her, with herself,
Before setting them free.
Femme Fatale, they loved her with all their might,
They hated her, after the night.
She changed men, as soon as she could
Never a regret, never a tear
She was Femme Fatale, her story untold.
Every dawn, she would sit, facing the mirror
Unveiling her spirit to herself.
A young girl of sixteen, stared back at her, through the reflection
Her face, innocent, devoid of the scars.
She erases the face from the mirror and puts on her mask.
Vehemently applying make-up, the Femme Fatale returned to her task.