As she adjusted her bra strap,
I noticed my lust.
Blindingly sevidical, but as brief as a wrap,
To control, to control, let it fall to the dust.

I wished for many a time
Merely to speak, to flow, allow my thoughts to congeal.
Alas, it was faulty; only amounting to my sacral slime.
I should realise, fortify the need for reckless zeal.

Claim envy. Jealousy. Angst.
A coward. A loser. A failure.
For sure, for sure. It appears it canst.
Only to seek, touch, comprehend your allure.

Sirens and succubi hold no claim.
Vixens and Amazons wither in your light.
Incorporate: Intelligence. Ineffectual. Insane.
For you lasted longer than any mere sight.

They will ask me, one day
How I allowed the fissure to exist.
Fall. Fall. At the bottom you lay.
I will respond, “It was my cowardice I kissed”