Her eye lids rise and fall again,
like petals floating against a murmuring flame,
lips that accentuate her tear drop eyes,
a silence that speaks more than words could claim,
Pernicious like opium is her spell,
like a candle against an inferno, I wither away,
You may think you have her figured out,
but she's the puppet master and the play,
her hair riveting, like a black lagoon,
her soft caramel skin, glistening against the crystalline moon,
her eyes find mine in between these empty faces,
I'm a chord lost between the bars of this tune,
she's a masterpiece, I'm her blind aesthete,
chimes in the breeze sing, as she moves her feet,
She's not simply my darkest desire,
she is my most ineffable need,
Where did she come from? Where does she go?
Where from does all her sorcery flow?
Like Ganymede without question I must play my part,
For this sorceress and her black magic show.
(Image courtesy - Photo Forum)
