Compulsion

Staring at your bright blue eyes
Through the fishtank glass
I must be out of my head
Or even insane

But when you look at me
I feel compelled
to see you
Dressed in black and left for dead

The night is cold and
The day is long
but the feeling of you
staring back at me
is too strong
And I feel compelled
To see you
put up there on a pedestal with a crown on top of your head.

Lust is of the essence
Your blood would be the wine
The taste of your poison kisses
Would make me stop and stay awhile

There must be time
To turn back
Through the sheet of broken glass
And to see you
Crowned with all that you deserce
I feel compelled
to see you
Dressed in black and left for dead.