It Was Real, It Was Fun, Was It Real Fun

A fiery poem of wild love, chaos, and breaking free from a non-stop seductive storm girl.

Her fire sent my heart on the run,
Her bite, my wound, my life un-spun,
Her growl, a storm, her eyes a flame,
I ran yet whispered back her name,

Her bite a vow, Her claws a cage,
Her feral ink drenched my page,
Her lips can break the will of Kings,
Her Breasts a snare where chaos clings,

Her mind sets traps for every shame,
I had to drop her, end our game,
So, who's the moth, and who's the flame?

— Noisy Wren