My Lurid Poison

I can almost taste,
the deadly venomous poison,
of the lurid and sensual beauty who miraculously stands before me,
in the form of a man.
His long, smooth sleek manicured fingers
remind me, not of the sharp claws that it should appear to be,
which stand ready to rip me to feathery pieces,
but instead testimony to his incomparable and outstanding beauty.
Although he may be a man, he deserves the title of a beauty.
As no other woman, could reach this impossible standard of charm, beauty and grace.
He should have been born a lady
to have been able to learn so cleverly, to shield his poison,
to effuse the exquisiteness of his face and lithe body,
with the born allure of a courtesan.
What a natural. what a magician.
Who else would fall to him,
as he searches for a lady,
to quench his boundless thirst for excitement,
for change,
for love.

Pray, tell me the name of the woman,
who would tame this beast, this unnatural beauty,
and blind him for eternity, to her, and her only.

Wait, is it my imagination? Or reality?
Could he be, pray, could he just be an ordinary creature?
extraordinary only to me, a woman,
as how a female sees a male.
with fatal, honeyed desire in my eyes.

Save me, please.
I beg of you.