The fickle finger of fate

A bony appendage bleached white
beckons me, as if out of spite
The final outcome seems unclear
yet I can not help but draw near

I drift slowly, as the curling finger pulls me in
melting together, where do I stop and you begin
But with a jolt I realize this was only bait
the true treasure lies behind a locked gate

Merely attached like lichen to a rock
The symbiosis once nourishing, is now not
The love has now dried up and crumbled into hate
All because I followed, the fickle finger of fate