Siren (Poetry)

All eyes are drawn to her
whose limbs provide a casual feast
for us to marvel at, devour,
always wanting more.

We’ve fasted for so long
she seems miraculous —
such beauty a mirage that’s sure to fade —
a passing trick of light.

But someone’s pinned her down
and caught this moment and the next —
plate after perfect plate
to stir the coldest heart

’til passion boils, words melt, eyes mist
while hunger’s pure imagination fills the soul
with a longing far beyond
all reason — leaves no power to resist.