My lovers lies,
are broad as the Nile ,
His tease smooth,
like that of honey,
to sooth for concern
wove the untold,
The growls ,
is unhinged,

The hypocrisy,
Too Crafty  
the  soul at fist  
fond of blasphemy
the nourishment,
is unnerving
the gasp,  
too unfamiliar

his gaze that of the moon,
His grace of luminaries,
His eyes  too delightful  
the yearning thaws,
Too dull for pretense,


it, burns my urge ,
the tales, clayed
with madness,
and yet, to consoling