If Only

A boy's seduction: her voice, moves, and honeyed lips enslave his heart and mind. #poetry

If only I weren't a real boy,
I would not have become her toy.
How was I to know that she was a Siren?

It wasn't her fine southern exposure or her flawless feminine form that took me,
It wasn't her eyes or nose; it was those soft pillows, those cherry-covered marshmallows she kissed me with.

I fell victim to her soft, sweet voice. Her every sound was a drug my body craved. Her every move sent waves of desire breaking over my mind.

She moved like water flowing over polished stone. The sway of her hips; Even the girls were captivated by her. She attracted me like no other.

It was too late when I realized she had woven her way into my heart; her desire was my desire, her every wish, my command. She tasted sweet, like jalapeño honey, and I craved her daily. Her taste seeped into my brain.

My mind was my enemy—it belonged to her, and she spread her honey in every room. Her temper was a nuclear detonation. I found it one day when my face got in the way of her hand. She is plasma, wrapped in whispered chains.

If only I weren't a real boy,
I would have never been her toy.
What a terrible injustice that would have been.

—Noisy Wren
Catch me on X @MyPoeticWorks2