I have yet to lose my soul to the lies of a temptress.
Even as she kisses up my arms,
And leaves her hot sticky breath upon the crook of my neck.I don't get lost in her ragged sobs and the moans of her self-righteous.
Ignoring her insincere mask of innocence.
She attempts to allure me with her sweet perfume of dead roses.
You attempt to beguile me with whorish intentions.
I still have yet to lose my soul to the lies of a temptress.
YOU ARE READING
Heresy of the Unprepossesing
PoetryI write stuff, and this is a good place go store it!