This is not a divine intervention, but a certain inevitability.
I weave these threads of fate with my own hands; the velvety ribbons pass through my fingers into a work of excellence.
As she dances heedlessly in this lethal tango, unaware as the fine threads securely attach to her.
The ribbons slowly, intimately knot around her body. Their prolonged, soothing caress prepares her for a deep entanglement.
How infuriatingly lovely is this constant restraint, this ephemeral fall!
Regardless of the consequences, we will thrive in this romantic attachment until our very breaths are painfully constricted by love's disquietude.