You say you’re honest and made of razor-sharp truth.
You take pride in being the real thing, a man with hot blood in his veins.
You claim to be an open book, ready to be yourself
And no one other than your passionate fierce self.

You’ve got your arms like steel, ready to hold and embrace
The body of a goddess. But not her soul.
Steel is cold, and a goddess needs to be consumed in fire.
You’ve got your whispers like honey, confessions that can set a woman’s heart in flames.
You promise a whole new world of passion that can only be discovered in two.
But you can’t take it all the way to the end; your game of seduction is only halfway done.
No, your fire and your soul are dimmed in the mist of your masculine ego.
You’re like a raging ocean wave that suddenly breaks against the cliffs that have been there since the beginning of time.
These cliffs are the walls to your invisible cage.

There’s a universe inside you that a wild woman can invade,
What you need is an untamed soul to tame your self-pride.
A lover to melt together with, interweave, and come out restored
To your unalterable wild nature, with your soul alive.
The goddess that can dishevel all your erroneous notions of truth,
Compromise your long-cultivated, well-sustained character of a macho male
And protect the integrity of your spirit.
Set your heart on fire.

You claim to be an open book, ready to be yourself
And no one other than your passionate fierce self.
But darling, you have the real open book lying down right in front of you
Telling the story of passion, ecstasy, abandon, trust and love.
And you cannot lay your guard down low enough to read it.

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