You led me into the abyss of hell's deepest, coldest cave -
toasting a chalice of my molten heart and splashing it in my face.
Smiling as you graze on my impudence as a worthy cow on God's pasture.
For now, Miss Europa, the smiles are shared - but we both know soon they will be spared.

Our atavistic convulsions of rhythmic ******* and intellect,
linked us in a dark underground forest of bodies.
Yet how do I say your surname? How do I dream your face?
My perception of you is jagged, yours of me is bitter to taste.

Your arbitrary decision is one of fear and mistrust -
but you fail to realise the fear is of a harmless object,
and your mistrust is misjudged; swayed by a foreign force.
I look deeper still through watering eyes and realise
as per usual - the same old story,
the restraint is in your (th)eyes.