Darling, the spell of sweet shiny things
is not what they call as classic,
but even old-mighty, reputed kings 
might take a sip of pink-toxic plastic.

The delicious neon on your tongue
is more lethal than it indicates-
because I'm a honeyed crime among
all the other pretty, luscious baits.

The light of your life,
the fire of your loins;
you ignore the red blush of your wife
to throw me some gold coins.

You think you're in honor
of this expensive excuse of foolish
entity but you're a goner;
just a flick of my red nail polish.

The world is in its own ugly scavenge;
if il bacio was in 21st century
it would be a  revenge
of nostalgic brutal injury.

'Cause darling, the spell of sweet shiny things
creates a glimmering red blood, long–
line between obsession and flings,
and that line happens to be my flimsy thong.

===================

A U T H O R' S    N O T E

"likes to watch me in the glass room, bathroom
Chateau Marmont;
slipping on my red dress, putting on my make up
glass film, perfume, cognac, lilac
fumes, says it feels like heaven to him"

This song was stuck in my head for days, and basically this is what inspired me to write this poem.

"Abuse seems love, till the pink tinted heart shaped glasses are off."