You use your feminine wiles.
Sticky honey to snare,
knowing full well the power.
Why do you choose to torment,
to torture me so?
Never a direct acknowledgement of my presence
yet always alluding.
What laws of nature prevent basic human kindness?
Preclude a gentle interaction?
A mere touch here and there is all I long for.
Just to know you think of me.
Why must I always make the first move?
Slavery to my emotion
dictates that no matter the consequence
I must trap myself time and again
in your devils snare.
Will you not take pity this time
and release me?
Free me to spread my wings
in soaring flight.
We can glide together
on the warm upwellings.
Effortless, peaceful, graceful.