[POEM] Hit-Man

The most inconspicuous hit-man you have ever seen.

I settle within you,

sliding down,

digging deep inside your tender loins;

not to be confused with the chunk of dinner meat

I passed by, settled in your stomach,

on my way down here.

You would think I was Sean Connery

with his well-pressed suit

and shining ‘pistol’

by the casual way

I sit on your shelf,

or in your purse,

waiting to catch your eye each night.

After all, subtlety is my business.

Well, except for my choice in colors;

not even 007 can pull of powder pink like me.

My job description: homicidal suicide.

What a turn-on, right?

You take one swallow of me

and it’s a b-line for the bed

and belt.

For what is more orgasmic

than the absence of consequence?

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*Insert your thought here*

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