It's a curious thing, attraction.
Whether born of love or lust.
In that initial interaction, perfection is a must.

The first greeting will be a precursor for the rest of your meeting, no matter how fleeting, this rule there's no cheating.

No escape, no chance to emerge, my body you'll rape, my soul you'll purge.

And now it's begun, quite the web you've spun, even if I wanted there's no chance to run. I don't want to run.
It's an odd thing you've done.

You're the master, I've ended up kneeling after the curious inception of that fated first feeling (my heart's gone reeling).

But the framework's been built, a methodological menace, from here it can but wilt, these feelings have a one way presence.

The first touch was so wrong, now there's no solution, your touch on me has lasted so long, a resemblance of pollution.

But I don't wish it away, how could I want that? From that very first day I've but wanted to enact the resolution of this pact believe me that's a fact.

Regret's quite the bitch, like I'm a lapdog to you, if the first connection was better do you think we'd be together too?

I hope so, I really do. But what does it matter I'm no more than some person
to you.

It's a curious thing attraction, oftentimes a one way street.
Don't screw up that first reaction, it'll be the most bitter defeat.

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xxxxx | xxxxx