The cinder in your kiss is sweetly sour,
Blown soft to tease my needy itch,
Yet only glimpsed in lapses of your cuckoo mask
When dollar signs play cataracts
The facade slips.
Loves little whispers twist upon your tongue
That forks the promise of desire;
Cold venom masqueraded in the scent of sin
A sirenís shroud veiled in a smile
Of silky lips.
Soft flesh entwines me in a passions grip;
A hollow arched pretence of bliss;
Feigned slip of earth - my heaven cursed with little lies
All leaves me lost but blinded by
Your love my lust.