Conceit

The flicker in their eyes,
The linger in their steps,
She turns and feel their presence
She's caught between trap,
And freedom.

The flirt in her hair,
The fullness in her lips,
She holds back and gives calculated-
Restrained by conscience
But in loneliness forward.

How is it that one could be
Self-concious; yet desiring the blood
To heat.
This, The pull of conceit
Against the tug of conscience
Beauty prioritised,
Selfless depth denied.