Sometimes my words are honey
ready to be licked off my lips
used to calm and caress
and produce a sedated mentality.
Other times they are locked and loaded
in the holsters on my hips
if I am out for blood they will ensure
the most destructive fatality.
When the two words cross over
and into the crossfire my prey slips
they will be consumed with lust and war
a victim of my ruinous sexuality.