My  head is filled
With  black gloss
And dark brown  rounds
Red in their lights
And a smile as wide
As night itself.
A pale skin,
Arching eyebrows
Smooth  and thin as a
Pencil line,
Passion of vision:
I see your face
Your  body shaped and  slim;
I am  sucked in
By  your outward self of
Male  perfection
Male  projection
I am failing in
Against my will
To a heaven of such precision
As I should by now ignore
But I am borne
In an updraught
Too strong to oar against
And all I hear is fierce: a
Roaring of winds
I feel the blast against
My skin:
The furore of the elements
The tightening of you
Inexorably fencing me in.
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