The Dance (by: eddy styx)

a stunning woman,
nature's work of art.
hazel eyes that flashed,
beneath a brunette part.

dark hair in glossy fashion
nature had not skimped.
her vanity was obvious
as she preened and primped.

the mirror, her bosom friend
this room had one on every wall.
a tiny woman, delicate and petite
for her charms, most men would fall.

noticing her lovely appearance
from across the well lit room,
crossing the floor, I bowed before her,
she not feeling her coming doom.

leading her on the dance floor
having taken her tiny hand
we flowed together swaying,
she was falling for what I'd planned.

this one I would humiliate
before crushing her windpipe,
watch her spit and sputter
this feminenine ego so ripe!