Twenty two temptations,
since you last stared in my direction.
Your gaze is insistent, intricate,
and I deconstruct every detail as I deal with my weak will.
You told me once,
that a sin can be cleansed by sun,
sneaking into heaven, by the back door, off the corner of Seventh,
and even though it seemed like nonsense,
I had no choice but to believe every word from your enticing, beguiling lips,
stroking the wings on your back,
the soft feathers between my fingers,
as you shivered,
your kiss on my neck.
Sweetie pie,
when you meet my gaze,
I lose my mind,
and I think I’m fine with that.
Maybe I’ll know for sure,
when my mind returns.
