Nothing more than a cliche; you remind me of my days hanging in the breeze way. Turned away by the rubbish you would bloviate. My gates protected me from you insidious plot, Lorelei.
Sweet nothings susurrate around me as I ruminate on all the lies, not one slither of anger or regret, all I feel is a bliss. Guardian Angles preserve your memory, they handed me the holy
aide-memoire, divulging no one out runs karma but promising not to harm ya.
Mata Hari, you would tell me not to worry, I aimed to see your every desire come to Fruition, Sin. In the end all you wanted was an opportunity to achieve felicity.
I'm calm, amused by the way you offer yourself as a concubine. You'll never see the flaw in that Proposition. My light has removed your viel jezebel.