Ah. It is you.
The lover named.
And yet we did not meet before that day.
Invited, at my side you seized a place
So quick in gifting words
That my departure would delay.
My ego flattered
By well-chosen twists of phrase
The subtext combed, alluding,
To seduce and hold —
A master of your craft.
Enticed. Unwittingly myself I find
Reciprocating to your honeyed notes in kind.
No. Temptress. I am not yet caught. Await.
Such reckless lovelorn folly is not mine.
Yet when your gaze is fixed upon the stage
My spirit soars and at your will I twine,
Embracing boundless depths — one aim in mind:
Adoring. Your devotion to engage.
Mine even in your absence… untamed muse —
I grow afraid of what in loving I might lose.