I met him at the masquerade ball, Where he caught me when I was about to fall, Iridescent blues trapped in a velvety veil, His woodsy scent I inhale. He was so dishy, Not so flashy, Charming and classy.
My mind was a farrago, For his lips were so soft like filago And I dunno if I'm prepared To get my heart repaired.
His fingers entwined mine, Excruciatingly long and fine. As we danced, I was tranced, By the clean-cut phoenix he was, Attracting girls, loads of them coz He was so charismatic.
His height blunted my own; He was like a crown of thorn Made of risks and what not I shouldn't have brought home a piece of thorn Not enough to make me mourn, Still enough to make me curious enough To go & take the crown as whole tough though it was.
I wore it, Not minding how my head split, Blood gushing out, Huge bruises sprout. It was not long before I got ruined All 'cause of my desire and lust left unfulfilled.