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Click hereLate at night I feel the brush
Of an enchanting succubus
Thoughts of her still in my mind
That send a shiver through my spine
Her siren call rings in my ear
I am forever drawing near
Attraction that I can't refuse
I am her poet and she my Muse
Her form like that of some greek goddess
Whether clad in robe or bodice
Or simply shorts and thin white top
The thoughts of her will never stop
Magic, Myth, or oft told legend
She's set apart from just mere women
Sounds like the muse of erotic poems grabbed you by your pen. Thanks for the lovely sonnet.