A man’s words are manifestly more seductive than the awkward actions taken in the game of seduction. Flowers and chocolates are not as persuasive, and gifts are only a measure of what can be afforded rather than what can be surrendered. I’d rather have your heart than your money and your tongue than your gifts.

Perhaps it’s because I am a wordsmith and as such I know the power of words and the weight they hold on the soul like an anchor that holds down a vessel even as the ocean continues to swirl around us. Like metal that is melted in fire to mold, words set aflame something inside me that is capable of forging me into anything it wants with your stolen kisses and timid touches, and the words you immortalize in your writing.

But words can also take from me what I don’t want to give, bending me to its spellbinding will even as I fight to keep control of my own words, to make them vague enough for you to keep guessing but powerful enough to enchant you like the minx sorceress I’ve become. But your words are slippery and unpredictable where mine are made of stone, casting me into the dangerous waters of your puerility and watching me sink to the bottom where your words anchor me down to your soul and my words sink their fangs into your soft neck.

** Photo by Reiz (http://reizdrawing.deviantart.com/art/Enchantress-626821931)


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