Sex Magick

An insatiable thirst parches your throat,
as my rabbit claws make their way down your back;
my sharp, little nails leave their marks-
tattoos to remember me by.

Enchanted innocence is the key in the spell I wove.
No longer human, am I, silly Reaper.
I lay my last card down-
The Queen of Hearts in the hands of the Queen of Spades.

I smirk demurely,
as silken fabric drapes the floor.
Red curls spill down bare shoulders,
as I slip into shadows like the Fae.

Catch me if you can, hunter.