She Was a Thief

When I first saw her I knew right away that she was a thief
She had the look of guilt written everywhere
It was on her shoulder length blonde hair that she had scrunched so carefully
It was on her beautiful flawless face with piercing eyes of blue/green
It was on her lips that were full, ripe, moist and painted beige
It was on the blouse she wore made of silk and fitting like a second skin
It was on the cleavage barely showing what was obviously large breasts
It was on the bra-less nipples that protruded through the silken veil that lacked modesty
It was on the jeans she wore with seams so tight that you could see the size of the mole on her ass
It was on the red thong that was just above the back of her jeans and just below her top
It was on the legs covered with jeans so tight you could read her tattoo

She was a thief she had stolen so much and paid so little
She was a thief who was too clever to get caught
She was a thief who stole not for the wealth of the goods but the fun of the crime

She was a thief; she stole my heart and refused to give it back.