Mirage.

the prophecy.

You're like the dark of the moon.

Underneath, underrated and unrevealed.

You're like the calm before the storm.

Poised, exuberant and at climax.

You're like the inside of a rose,

How a woman must be undressed

Petal by petal.

You're like the last drop of dew,

Faltering, glistening yet, sustaining.

You're like the dark lavender of night,

Rich, intoxicating and lonely.

You're like the smell of freshly brewed coffee,

Bitter, awakening and welcoming.

You're like the prophecy,

that warns a wingless angel,

walking in the stardust,

she must not pluck the forbidden flower,

she must not prick her finger upon a thorn.