You are marketed.
Fake.
Illusion.
Surface, refined,
no flaws,
sublime.

And yet I
am attracted to you: the
image is my drug that
draws me into you,
and I want to suck on
what is greater than life.

Sugar is sweet!
Honey on the tip of my
tongue.
Seduction.
I must have you and
the charge, this orbit,
for what’s done,
is done.

I know it is not human,
but no matter, it is you,
beautifully manufactured,
curated,
to capture my soul.

 

3/9/2024