(To a Succubus) An Ode is Owed

Your every curve
Makes me to swerve,
And though you know
I live to serve,
I pray I do not
Lose my nerve
Ere I attain
What I deserve.

For I am sure
That your allure
Will leave me gasping
On the floor.
Eternity
Outside your door
I'll wait, and ever
Beg for more.

I take no thought
Of what is what,
Considering
It can't be bought.
I'll gladly do
As I was taught,
In hopes this fair one
Can be caught.