The Cinderella's pumpkin...
You do not love me, as, your ego, is, too tough,
No matter if, you have, faked, scary say, in late,
When, your heart, soul, body, keep, all, jerking you off,
Thus, so much, wet, than, you cannot, more, concentrate...
You have confessed, that, you are, in me, so drowning,
So much, that, you do feel, me, as surrounding you,
Which, has, even, led you, astray, to the last fling :
Relief, is, in the denial, that, i may be true...
What a irony, to tell me, that, you need air,
When, your strength, match with, judging me, sly hypnotist,
As, untrustworthy, as, my fallacious french flair,
While, your sixth sense, has made, me, a lovesmith artist...
You, rather, buckle down to mind, duplicity,
And, hide, yourself, in your sterile poetic dreams,
Finally, you have begged me : please, don't approach me...
Once more, no way, to set you, free, within love means,
That is, why, your sleeping beauty, yet, so long-lost,
Dismally, will, keep, clinging on to your, one lie,
Since ever, sewn, with flimsy lust, as a white frost,
Whereas, off fire, sometimes, may, sidle, through your eye,
Like so, you do not, deem fit, to love on a whim,
Having cried, mercy, just, for, your mind goes silent,
Such know-how, shows, that, you dread, loving on a dime,
Jailing, yourself, as a sadistic militant...
And, as a last resort, your ultimate tribute,
Has been, to keep harping on, your inner numb fright,
As if, i have been, the, so-called, plague of your floot,
When, you, self know, that, Love, is the most giftful right...
Ultimately, i have said, you, true-to-life,
Anyway, do not cry for me, Cinderella,
As, i have, else fish to fry, than, playing the fife,
And, also, for, your Love for me, seems, just, a blah....
(C) Tenebrio August 20, 2015 at 14 : 55...
