That you please me,
captures every prescient being
allure of a mirror of choice, a craving
for the taste of love.
The trap that holds and wont let go
for it is not merely a matter of will
it is also the want and the magic
taste of love
When you were a vanity of fire
I was the moth circling
mysteries within fascination,
a fascination within a dance of light
I had forgotten how warm
darkness can be, how tender
a cold night’s search
for more that we could wish,
and that somehow together we found
the taste of love.
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