Lie

The heat of passion steaming up my thought
Till mirror of reflection clouded out
The haze of your desire lingers yet
Inside my head a shimmering of doubt
That tender tendril lustily entwined
Until my reason choked on your demand
And all we had was mirrors and some smoke
And love is lying lifeless in your hand
Our passion spent like thirty silver coins
If only we had stopped and used our head
But girded loins and labour weren’t the force
That stripped us bare and left us on the bed
Where lust is dying now is growing shame
With men who lie but never speak their name 

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Author: thepoetautist

A Gay poet of fifty odd years who is currently living in Cambodia.

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