Deflowered Garnish

What am I, a piece of meat?

Enticing aroma

Do I call to him?

Can he not resist my crimson folds?

Does he see a fresh, dripping slice?

Something he can dress as he pleases

Cover in sauce

Marinate till tender

Until he gnashes his teeth

And ravages its flesh at his whim

Am I a piece of meat?

Which he cannot resist

For a wolf such as himself,

I am the carnivore’s desire

And I with no limbs, tongue, or eyes

Must escape him