she jumps from table to table, dances with me like no other.
dips me, lifts me, whips me round in the most passionate of tangos.
She traces her legs, every movement, with care,
a fall from grace, so perfect and so rare.
she catches me as I leap. And leap I do but still I am there, in her arms, wrapped so tightly and held so dear.
"Do you like that?" she whispers into my ear
I do not. But I cannot seem to drag myself from her, a swirling twister of silver and red, though to be with her is my downfall, and she knows it.
she sees the fear in my eyes and she relishes in it. she sees my inhibitions and she dances all the more, shocking my soul and pleasing my heart. she is a heatwave, frostbite, a tragic death and the first breath. she is my ending and my beginning, killing me softly. and yet I do not stray. try as I might to escape she drags me back screaming and kicking, spinning me round till I cannot see, cannot walk and cannot think. she is ingrained in me, patterns on my skin that burn desperately through my clothes, itching red-hot. they remind me that I am hers.
and what if i liked it?