Nympheta

Beginning to be caught up in a state of evanescere I began to fade to black Despair begins to run amok Forging her face from the fairest spector of weaving maidens A polished perverted phantasm In the mist of a slumber Lying on a blanket of within temptations Becoming enticed by sexual covet A Nympheta hung by impulse I was hooked by her resolution Strung like Cupid's bow Impaled by hankering arrows Now starting the metamorphosis of flaring passion Binding the corners of attentiveness Like Black Swans being lead to the river Paving the way for fair enchantment Persuaded by her mesmeric disrobe Strolling on golden days, dancing her to the moon