The moth floats along carefree.
Till the day he happens to see.
Her, the flame upon the candle.
He thought he had a handle.
On every little urge.
All his desires begin to merge.
He's stricken by a curiosity.
Now an alluring depravity
Pulled by a certain gravity.
Pulled closer and he cant escape.
He doesn't even want to leave the show.
But we know, oh yeah we do know.
Just how bad things like this can go.
The flame becomes a sort of fixation.
An obsessive thought, a temptation.
And its reach extends far and near.
Dulling the reason and the fear.
The moth is on an override.
He up, goes, and flutters by.
He could have had the stars and the sky.
So focused on the main event.
The saucy flame that heaven sent.
And he goes goes goes right into harm
Straight into her fiery arms.
Enticed beyond the point of safe return.
Watching her smolder and burn.
He approaches, utterly seduced.
And the little moth is reduced.
To nothing but a bit of ash.
Just some ash of a chance encounter.
Left along with all the piles around her.
And the cricket that watched begins to sing.
Oh, intimacy is a dangerous thing.
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5 comments:
"I'm not so afraid of losing something that I won't try havin' it."
yeah, ignore that it's from firefly. a friend told me that one. it's solid none the less.
noice
What can I say? Women are the fire of our early desires and men are the insects who are attracted to the flame =/
thats one way of seeing it. personally i think everyone is more equal than that. though sometimes it really feels like we are just moths to a flame
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