Poetic lies drip honey-like

Oozing from the tip of his tongue

His pale face reflected in the dank gloom

Lips curved upwards like a carven statue

Sunken as aged marble

He smiles but only through smirks

He whispers of love and respect

All the while ogling my body

He is beautiful,

But even beauty is lethal

His fingertip brushes my lips

And his eyes gaze fatally into mine

I am caught,

Hook, line and sinker

But unlike the silver fish

I put up no struggle,

And allow myself to sink

Into that well of sugar coated, empty bliss

If I am to fall,

At least I make the fall armed

With vicious knowledge,

And lust cannot injure

Surely?