Marionette

Tugged by heartstrings
twirled around her slender fingers.

His heart is made to dance
to her siren song.

Drawn by her promise
of regard and warm affection
ensnared by the cool touch
of bewitching fingers

He remains,
bound by a connection
that bids him to motion;
the dance of the marionette.

A twisted puppet of devotion,
a tool to boost her shallow ego.
A servant starved of need;
tossed scraps of sweet emotion

A subtle smile and stolen glance
keep him spiralling in the dance,
and at her whim his strings are cut
He lies forgotten; trampled underfoot

Steven Kenny