My heart convicts me,
She beckons me to surrender to your essence.
She murmurs to my spirit, and I trust her whispers; she vows you are my heart’s craving when the hour is ordained.
She glides, she eludes me, she weighs on my being. You elude me
You are my dream,
Albeit premature.
For my soul aches for my steps to stride bold and steadfast, as yours do when you tread.
She dreams your lion’s spirit will echo within her own.
She pines, she seeks, she yields, and she knows you are meant to linger,
And tomorrow, when she wanders far, she’ll liken you to lions and Hercules—though I pray she remembers not to exalt a mortal above the Divine.
That defies the Lord’s sacred will.
She will veil her eyes to your imperfections,
And on quiet nights, when your memory haunts her, she’ll yearn for your gentle, tender embrace.
Yet on other nights, she’ll crave your fierce,untamed passion,raw and unblemished, unfettered
