eulogy 1
She was twenty-seven, beauty sharpened like a blade,
a siren in the doorway where the strongest men obeyed.
Velvet lips, a glance that promised sin,
she loved the game of starting fires, she’d never end.
A cat and mouse enchantress, she lured them near,
whispers on her tongue, both poison and cheer,
she tasted chaos like wine from the vine.
Breaking their hearts simply to prove they were mine.
Striking what’s forbidden, she owned the chase,
hungry for the conquest, not mercy, not grace.
God was a shadow she dared to ignore,
while passion and ruined locked loud at her door.
Thrills turned to ashes, desire to decay.
She played and she played till the light slipped away.
Her beauty, once power, became like a curse,
each conquest a coffin, each kiss something worse.
Now mirrors reflect a woman undone,
her own sabotage, the bullet, the gun.
The vows she once spoke echo sharp in her head.
But her husband lies silent,
his love turned to dread.
The game she adored led her straight to this place,
a widow at twenty-seven, haunted by his face.
The thrill was gone hollow; the fire turned to ice.
And his final act whispers: she gambled the price.
7:13
Chloe