She promised revolutions
with the slow movement
of her dancing form;

Of new evolutionary
revelations,
that may be scary
testaments
to the new environment
we would exist in.

Artisan of living,
lips giving
sweet passion’s nectar,
she was a specter
of life and death’s
imaginary perfectness.

A thousand point of
poetic reactions to love,
more than enough
to dream eternity
written within
the cold skin
of infinity.

She promised me
a grand reality,
and I wept,
so ready to succumb.
Then she left
and I was struck numb
and dumb.

Now, I wonder
who taught her
how to lie so
beautifully?