I made you love me
With treacle, tricks and tonsure.
I was so sure of myself
I could dissuade you from anyone else
And elves would come
In the night to bewitch you more deeply.
Sleepy, sleeping, not seeing
You would fall under my loving spell.

And well would I use you
Truly dragging you along unaware
Of my witchery, jiggery-pokery
Jokingly, or seductively
Instructively guiding you to please
Easing you into your role;
Solely in charge of the play
Saying sweet, flattering words
Heard in clutches and hugs
Drugs for the lonely, the needy.

And you became convinced
Since I am so good at my craft
I drafted you into my dream
Seemingly all your idea.
My Galatea of sweet, smooth skin;
Sin for me to commit gladly,
Madly, I did not care what you wanted
I flaunted my talent brashly
Trashily uncaring of the scorn
That might be born of my ego;
My need so ugly to see:
Me, playing god of love.


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