Beauty beckoned and beguiled,
Lyrically luring to the lair;
Clarity of curvaceous charms,
Represents risks of the ravenous.
The Enigma that you are,
I shall never call your name;
Never let it come alive,
To taunt once more.
Every game's gotta have gains,
Strokes, strikes or the stakes;
Played for plagues of passion,
Wits withheld and withdrawn.
The Confusion that you are,
I shall never learn your nature;
Never want to know which side,
Of your facade remains true.
Copyright © 2016 thearcticstar
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