Slave of the Red God

The flick of the hair, the flash of the eyes
And he walks on by.
The clean white suit clings to him;
I long to touch it.
Cool, contained, arrogant he passes.
Lord of all he surveys.
He walks with the confidence of one
Who knows he is master.
And yet he cannot know, in its full depth,
How he owns me.
That I would give my life for him he might expect -
But I would give my soul.

And I ask nothing of him as a price
For all that I would give.
Only that I might stay, and watch him
As he passes me.
The sight of his casual, arrogant beauty, the sound of his voice;
These are my payment.
Slave to his smouldering eyes, his cocky smile,
And these my freedom.
Unknowing, he wraps me in chains of his grace:
Chains of fire, unbreakable.

And yet, he cannot sense my longing gaze
On his retreating form.
When he approaches, then I must fall back,
My eyes downcast.
Afraid that he will see my thoughts
As if through glass.
He has bewitched me without magic,
Enslaved me without force.

And I am willing to be owned by him,
And none but him.
And, being part of his estate,
I feel whole at last.
I know to be a slave to his sordid glory
Makes me richer than freedom could.
A devotee of this beauteous, heartless god -
I know my place.

With him.