Toss a coin to the Witcher,
With hair that is like the moon,
Silver and bright
That falls to his shoulders
Of aged leather skin.
His skin triggers your memory
Of a parchment skinned vampire
that once stole your breath.
But it’s the Witcher’s eyes
That lock you
With pools of gold
Imitating the suns warmth
When you catch that
Rare silver wolf smirk.
Toss a coin to that Witcher
With harden layers
Of dirt, blood, and guilt
Splattered on his
Midnight starred armor
And fitted leggings that
Hug his ever-juicy thighs
Right down to the tactical battle boots.
“Ooooh my!”
Go ahead and toss that coin
As he pulls that sweat laden shirt off
Exposing his white marble chiseled chest
As he eases into the steaming hot bath.
Even the sweat that glides down
Swoons with joy as it merges with the bathwater.
Toss another coin,
Let him catch it
Let it roll across his fingers
Let him toy with it…
Over and under
Over and under
Over
Under
Under the water, it drops….
Fetch the coins.
“Hmm.”
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