She beat me, even if in the end she believes otherwise, a
conquest so complete, I can no longer compete, her beauty, her eyes, the slant
of her lips composed in a perpetual surprise, binding me up with her chill
demeanor, so I am a helpless fool, denied, her songs still stirring me up and
dominating my mind, from whom I fled in desperate attempt so save myself from
falling, going over the brink, to avoid becoming enslaved by her, while deep
down that is what I desperately desired from almost the start, to bind my soul,
making me wreathe, making me squirm, making it difficult to even breathe, and
perhaps, had I surrendered, we might both have survived, thrived in some way,
managed to keep it all contained, but alas at the last, she gives up, moves on,
and leaves me bound and gaged, choking on my own foolishness with which I will
have to live long after she is gone, her spirit lingering over me, still in
control.
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