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
I tried