"I'm not one for long goodbyes",
but those three words fell.
I am a pretty little thing,
so I smiled sweet as honey.
But fast on my heels I turned and ran,
like my mother has shown me.

"Do you miss me yet?"
"Don't push your luck,"
And the smile fades.
But she knows the truth,
The price she's paid.
To keep his bed,
And steal his skin.
But he says "please",
And they know the truth.
Everything's eventual some say.

Lips against her forehead,
she warns of insinuation.
She has locked away the past,
he has found his fix.
She remains ever present,
his eyes upon a future.
She feels the strength he loans her,
without ever staking claim.
He angers to keep a distance,
knowing she will end him
Exchange of power entirely to blame.
He has unwavering control,
she knows well the price to pay.
He acquires easily pretty little things,
though her intellect unrivaled.
She lies unashamed in silken sheets,
he rises to perfect detail in light.
Eyes captivate and size him up,
toying with her power
She will permeate his life.
He has already left fingerprints
upon her soul.