A confession fit for a priest...
from lips more suited for a king.
And a king is what I should have; but you are not a king.
You do not have angel wings; your kiss does not come with a vampire's sting.
My wish is not for your heaven above...
My dreams don't welcome your "emotional" love.
The only thing I want from you, lives inside your pants;
"I love you... I miss you," It's just a song and dance.
Connection, is fruitless... another waist of time.
My mind was made up long ago; the way you should be mine.
I'm sorry... you want love... I hate to let you down.
It's fragile... so precious... the way you make it sound.
But your words don't touch me, and neither does your heart.
You should have listened careful to me, from the very start.
And so the door keeps spinning, because my lust is great.
My arms stay open, welcoming you; but only as a mate.
That's all I have to offer you; so shallow and self serving.
But come to think of it; when were you...
ever so deserving?