Moon
Angel
I work
during the moonlit hours, my beat
Dressed
to tantalize, tempt and treat
They
wonder what’s under or maybe asunder
I cast
disturbing urges that occur like thunder
It makes
me feel good to be a Lady of the Nite
I turn
white knights into dark lights
Their
virginal sweethearts so smug
Together
so trendy and snug
With me
fantasies come alive
Free of
that middle-class responsible jive
There’re
no qualms, inhibitions or fake moral refusals
I shred
that societal sanctimony and core religious hypocrisy
They call
in their droves with cash in hand and lust in their eyes
My number
hidden in their telephone’s archives
Their
girlfriends and wives stabbed by their lies
At dawn I
sleep while the guilty toss and turn remembering my passion cries
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