I'm-Beholden

I taste your lipstick It's a prophecy I can't resist. I follow you in a bee's dance to a flower nap, and take my lance to prise it open. It's an iridescent opal I'm beholden. A tiger moth in its cloth, in its Lepidoptera scales-of-pigmented dust-froth you take my hand, and guide me to the stars in their quicksand. The universe is whispering, are you safe, are you saved? As I hold your face in my palms in my hands and kiss your lower thighs. I feel the sands the sand is slipping away, oh, I must be dreaming - anchors aweigh not a moment, not one chained link can stay, but when I wear your lipstick, it proves you came my way. It proves I couldn't resist you. It demonstrates how you couldn't resist me too.