Petaled roses,
Sweet nectar of the flower
That beckons me into your
Deceitful web of seductive paradise.
My fingers dare only to brush
The gentle curve of your cheek,
Never daring to grace the fire of your mouth
Lest I be consumed.
But I cannot escape,
The unseen thread of fate has bonded me
To you, and I can no more fight this desire
Than to cease the tides.
I am very close
To that which will destroy me that
I taste your breath against my tongue
And am ensnared by the sweetness I have found.
Your lips, the very fury of passion made flesh,
Presses against mine, beyond my feigned shyness
And entices me further into the coveted
Rapture of your desire.
I learn only too late what it is you are.
You are the siren, you are the sea,
And amidst the waves that have cast upon my life,
Your lips are the first and last things I will see-
Before I am pulled beneath the surface.

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