Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Love Stinks

Peculiar how the ways of lust
break into contempt
A once dream of my body's must
pleads to be exempt
The curried taste of lover's lamb
recedes into despair
once the sheath of garnished thought
leaves life cold and bare
Strange how once a tickled grin
only means to scowl
Upon the sight of sweet mistrust:
Curdled, damp and fowl
How could the heart vein's former ache
turn so quick to sore?
And open up to wreak the hate
of lost love's stale rapport.

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