The shadows made her look a little treacherous. (poetry)

Her bangs, tilted over one side of her face
gave mascara heavy eyes a
covert appearance

Her dark voice, raspy,
told a series of stories that sounded more like riddles,
interrupted by smoke circles.

Her blood red fingernails traced the rim of her glass,
the collar of my shirt, then
my neck, as she kissed me.

Just once.

. .

_{thanks to Evil Catullus for the title}