Click, click, click…


a symphony of footsteps replaying relentlessly,

designer heels kissing the cold ground,

as the band of the young girls march

down the almost deserted street,

wearing the pitch black night

as if it were the cape of  their bravery.


eyes fixated forward,

waiting for the mysteries

held by that november night

to be revealed.


chins held high,

all the time,

as if the action would be

the savior of their long lost dignity.


jewelry adorning their fragile necks and delicate hands,

glinting under the dim street lights,

stealing a glimpse of their elegant outfits

from the cars’ mirrors,

trailing an attitude that screams

of confidence, indifference, superiority


a French perfume’s scent.


painted in the color of the devil’s temptation,

those lips hold millions of riddles,

the pleasure of revealing them,

only reserved for a few lucky ones.


mesmerizing and hypnotizing,

the maidens of the earth,

will cast their spell on you.


what will draw you in and never let you out,

will be the shards of the starless skies,

trapped inside their eyes,

and the absence of any emotion,

other than boredom,

plastered on their angelic faces.


the reassuring presence of each-other,

being the only company,

as they look around,

for their next prey,

whom will be

just another pawn,

in their latest games

of wickedness and sanity.


walking on a steady pace,

with a burning confidence,

nothing seems to stop them

or their hunger for entertainment,

or so they like to think.


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