My Bittersweet Divine

This boy, I have not met
he seems to capture me, my mind,
his beauty is like the air of autumn,
glowing and cold, his face like a sculpture
his very being, commanding, all turn and stare
at my soon to be, boy.
Random moments are filled by his face, his grace,
entertaining my head, with thoughts,
fantasies really,
of manipulation and devious game-play.
The barbarian, the warrior, the sorcerer,
hidden behind, the picturesque mask
of an angel.
Entranced, etched in stone, I am
doomed and on my knees, begging, aching
for his sublime ecstacy, bewitched
and in lack of control.
Of all the beautiful, tactful, forcible boys
His face, devours my sight, I see
they are, but mere instruments,
while he is the grande symphony.
Enticing, enchanting,
I am filled, and hopeless,
with his silent, deadly, game of romancing
only connecting, our eyes in brief,
so sweet, He sees my twisting desire.
An endless pool of tainted wine,
He is my bittersweet divine