She calls, raindrops on her tongue,
voice riding 'cross waves of black.
It spins in your mind,
sweet melody supernatural—
Divine.
Her song
of forlorn, of stars,
of restless seas and likewise abandon,
of everything you could possibly imagine.
And serenades,
sorrowful, a heavy lash hung
on sunken breath,
words unspoken and equally unmatched.
It lilts,
rings beauty so blinding she
trifles Aphrodite,
soft souls can't help but listen.
Your weakness rings her smitten,
as the wind couples as guide,
and friend,
and enemy.
You are driven to her like moth to flame,
a destiny bled into stone
the moment you gave way.
Her arms,
and