Myriads of stars land upon your gaze,
They’re shining brightly in a dull city maze.
You haven’t decided whom you wish to chase,
Will it be a quick fling or eternal embrace.
They’re shimmering tellingly, offering fun,
You’re not opposed. You’re a mankin’s son.
You’re strolling around, flattering their grace,
But your eyes are drawn to an angel in lace.
She is dancing alone. Nice eyes and nice ass.
She’s noticed you too. She giggles. She sass.
She brushes you subtly. Her smile is kind,
You’re wondering briefly if she’ll go with wine.
She isn’t a star, though, a bonfire, may be?
Her flame is too bright, brashly open and free.
You’re brooding through an ongoing chat
No, you won’t get tamed by a woman, like that.
So you dance and you glide to a sparkling flame.
She provokes true desire and forgetting your aim,
You lean into kiss, and it’s hot, and it pains.
She rules you easily. You’re glad that she reins
Your mind and your heart. Her voice and her glance
Evokes more pleasure than any “blind chance.”
You struggle lazily, but the thing is – you’re caught,
You hear Karma’s snicker. It’ll be brutally rough.
But a step, and a touch – You are done.
She isn’t a bonfire. She’s the deadliest sun.