La Femme Fatale


The man gave her his heart.
Beating heart.
Bleeding warm blood.
Dripping down his arms.
Pumping. Pumping.
For her.
She took a glance. Icy.
‘Thank you. But this is not for me.’
Head turned, she walked on.
He followed, his heart in his hands, handed out for her.
Blood never stopped raining from it.
Stopped by another man, she remained indifferent as always.
That man fetched a dagger from his pocket and cut his chest open.
‘I give you my heart, my life.’
Frowning, she carefully pulled her dress back so the hemline would not be touched by his filthy blood.
And she stormed off.
More men arrived.
They all gave her their hearts.
A crimson road flooded by fresh blood.
A group of blood-drained living-deads.
A bunch of dying hearts.
And the gracefully-walking goddess, head held high.
To a destination incomprehensible to the heartless.


9 thoughts on “La Femme Fatale

  1. Cnawan Fahey

    Very synchronistic that I should stumble this post. For this is what I have done only recently….gave too much of my heart to another, so that I myself was devoid of heart for my own life. The truth I see in your poem ~ Those who love themselves, the truly empowered, do not desire a partner who is disempowered, even those that would sacrifice their own self love, their own power, for the sake of the partnership. The “destination incomprehensible to the heartless” would that sublime joining of mutual empowerment, of mutual love and self love.


  2. I’m completely and utterly taken by this!!! wow, just wow!
    “To a destination incomprehensible to the heartless. is such a profound and powerful line. Nothing is as it seems. And few recognize and comprehend this…


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