Cajolery

Seduction mimics chains made of steel.

Pleasure, in the end, is hard, cold, and suffocating.

Like pythons wrapping around innocent skin,

is the feel of the chains of my sin.

At times, I stare from a far distance—safe for a while.

I avoid her eyes—she is alluring and ravenously adorned.

Her dance—a dance of seduction.

My eyes see, and yet are blind.

Her sweet fragrance fills my nostrils, to the depths of my soul.

The emptiness—within—washes away, a flooding summer rain;

floods of yearning bring only pain.

In this vacuous craving, what do we gain?

This black hole of the human soul...

We`re worn down by our pleasures, not our pain.