Not a ***** nor a snake,
temptation just runs thru my veins.

The male flesh makes me weak,
Their touch makes me weaker,
Their scent fills me with pleasure.

I may have one, I may have two.
Knowing that they genuinely care
And knowing that I am growing weary of one
But love him deeply.

To give in to the fling, or to return to the one I love.

I play them both like a fiddle.
A game that tortures me as well.

Knowing I’m doing wrong.
Not knowing how to reverse my mistakes.

I sit here idly.
Wondering where I went.