Noir

In midnight's cloak, where danger’s near,
She loves with grace, a touch severe.
Her heart’s a flame, a perilous fire,
A dance of dreams, a dark desire.

Her kisses burn like embered gold,
A passion fierce, a story told.
Yet love in shadows, fraught and wild,
Is but a spell, both soft and riled.

In whispered vows and fleeting glances,
Her love enchants, then swiftly dances.
A fleeting flame, both fierce and frail,
The love of a femme fatale.