They hope I'd lose my mind,
Yet wish for me not to be left behind.
They crave my icy grace,
But also desire my playful, wanton trace.

They seek my radiant sun,
Yet want me not to come undone.
They tease my laughter and tears,
Then mock my heart as it disappears.

They grant me fleeting dreams,
Only to awaken me by trickling streams.
They lead me into slumber's den,
Yet show no mercy, again and again.

They love my purity's gleam,
Yet also my allure, a tempting dream.
They witness my solo serenades,
And watch my heartbreak in cascading shades.

They yearn for me, a wisp of smoke,
Yet adore my beauty when I provoke.
They witness my wild, untamed side,
Yet praise my wit, my dignity, my stride.

They long for my beauty, fair,
Yet urge me to be ruthless, to dare.
They wish for happiness, bright and bold,
But also for my fading, as stories are told.

They allure me with their desire,
As my eyes lose focus, they conspire.
They seek my truth, my inner storm,
Yet are entranced by my gaze, so warm.

They elope with me, a secret tryst,
Yet I remain their only twist.
They laud me as a bud about to bloom,
And bask in my sensuality's perfumed room.

I flourish like a bloom in spring,
Yet sometimes, I feel I'm suffocating.
For it's all about my beauty's theme,
And the enchantment that's my constant dream.

They blame me for my hundred-year cheer,
Yet blame me for tears that I hold dear.