Like a moth to the flame
I'm burned by a passion
Ashes of foolishness
led by misguidance
blinded.

Love at first sight
Strokes of life bleeding into my irises;
eyes fixated on Iris,
my goddess, my temptress
I witness
Perfection.

Complexion as pearl
personality, wittiness, the prittiest figure:
well rounded, firm, and well mounted,
And an aura colored golden
As the chaos used to carve her waist
Dazzling an dangerous as the sun.

Wins of wax manufactured
by the hand of an admirer
with one burnng desire
to feel the warmth of the burning fire,
coroporeal in it's tickle.
Fickle in my attempts;
Icarus.

Misguided by his one wish
as wings begin to drip.
drip.
drip.
The smell of wax
and anxious sweat
heat beating against my ears
warning me, praying
yelling, "Oh, God yes!"

Firey flesh melting into one
Fantasies becoming none
none other than lost reality
Leaving only me.
The moth.
The Foolish.
From Icarus to ashes.
The warmest I'd ever been.