Perhaps I'll find it tucked in satin. Yes?
(For trained and jaded lovers doth concur).
Wrapped packages conceal, so I confess
nothing. Hope too sweet congeals concrete. Blur
my hand, my eyes! Appendages -- defy
my prejudicial slant, my cynic's knock --
a door so soft must surely justify
an open soul. As sure as Sirens mock
courageous fools who fail to shield their ears
soon suffer tempests built from tartest woe.
But precedent, its substance boldly sears
delusion -- molten, boxed, and sealed. This bow
I grasp, unravel tides of faith, of trust.
Pandora, take your leave!
Sweet risk! I must...