Her hair was dyed a vibrant red.
Her piercings flashed under the
fluorescent lights of the cafe.
She was marvelous.
I didn't even have to move
a muscle to get her to come
to me.
She saw her target and was soon
sitting in front of me, picking at
her black nail polish.
The bright blue orbs under
the dark eyeshadow she wore
seemed to sparkle.
Part of me wanted to be wrapped
up in her endless amount of
flannels, ripped jeans, and
crooked smiles.
I knew what she was, though.
She was addictive.
And I would never be addicted to anyone.
