Poetry: Beguile Me Not, Miss Lust.

In the realm where passions burn, behold the tale I weave,
Of desires wild and untamed, where hearts begin to heave.
For lust, a fire unquenchable, in whispers softly calls,
A dance of yearning bodies, as temptation slowly sprawls.

In shadows deep, where secrets dwell, a hunger takes its hold,
A primal force that stirs within, a tale yet to be told.
It lingers in the midnight air, a sultry, wicked spell,
Igniting flames of longing, where forbidden fantasies dwell.

Oh, lust, you fickle mistress, you captivate the mind,
With seductive whispers, your allure is hard to find.
Like a moth to the flame, we're drawn, unable to resist,
We surrender to your power, in your embrace, we persist.

In stolen moments, passion blooms, as bodies intertwine,
Exploring realms of ecstasy, where boundaries unwind.
The touch, the taste, the fervent kiss, a symphony of delight,
In the depths of passion's grasp, we find our souls take flight.

But beware, dear wanderer, for lust can lead astray,
Down treacherous paths, where hearts may lose their way.
For in its fiery depths, it masks the longing of the heart,
And in the aftermath, its embers tear two souls apart.

So let us not be blinded, by lust's beguiling grace,
But heed the call of passion, in a delicate embrace.
For in the dance of bodies, where desires are revealed,
We find the truth of human nature, in love's tapestry concealed.

Bathabile Masilela