the first moment
where every commitment
substitutes for treachery
and our caress involves
your cold steel
pressing
against my back.

you manage to
be pleased by
flattery and pleasure  
until the second moment,
we intimately raise a glass
to civility, both knowing

neither of us
deserves the other's embrace.
while our shield still protects
while our swords still stand
proud and bloodied from
previous battles

I do not fight with blades,
I sing to you
enveloping your mind with
stimulus  
of wishes and dreams,
of whimsy and fantasy
of promises and security
hoping that
your eyes may betray
the stillness that covers you