The darkness appeals to me so much more than the light,
doing wrong feels so incredibly right at night.
When the sun sets and the moon rises slow,
sheets become messy, lights turn down low.
Secret meetings behind closed doors and thick walls,
from her daily pedestal of socially acceptable grace, the angel falls.
Falls so far into hell that she almost burns alive,
but his arms around her soft skin reassures her and makes the encounter worth the dive.
The flames don't singe but rather make her feel free,
and give her an incredibly clear picture of what love is supposed to be.
You only discover truth when you dare to touch the fire,
ignore all pain and give fully into the desire.