Nympheta

Beginning to be caught up in a state of evanescere
I began to fade to black
Despair begins to run amok
Forging her face from the fairest spector of weaving maidens
A polished perverted phantasm
In the mist of a slumber
Lying on a blanket of within temptations
Becoming enticed by sexual covet
A Nympheta hung by impulse
I was hooked by her resolution
Strung like Cupid's bow
Impaled by hankering arrows
Now starting the metamorphosis of flaring passion
Binding the corners of attentiveness
Like Black Swans being lead to the river
Paving the way for fair enchantment
Persuaded by her mesmeric disrobe
Strolling on golden days, dancing her to the moon