Fatale

Smoke curls like her whispered lies, Red lips gleaming in sodium light. Her heels click-clack on rain-slicked streets, While shadows dance in dead of night. Behind those eyes of polished steel, A calculated game unfolds. The detective's heart, once sworn to truth, Now follows where deception holds. Her silhouette against venetian blinds, A spider's web of dark intent. In this city's monochrome embrace, Another soul to darkness sent. Like cigarettes and whiskey neat, She burns, she numbs, she leaves no trace. The fatal woman of the screen, In silver shadows finds her grace.