I am an abomination.
A spiteful simulacrum of sensitivity,
A cynical shell of affection.
Of affectations.
She is the whimsical, disloyal child
And I her captor.
She understands so few of my explications.
She smiles and naively frames little frauds.
When she tells tales of past males
I cut her off.
In silences she laughs
At nothing.
Is this the nerves of the unfamiliar?
Or cautious cries of confusion?

I am complicit in this deception.
A mess of aches and pasts.
Desires and deceits.
I grunt in acknowledgement
When she boasts of base afternoons.
My little downy darling says
I am too good for her.
I sigh and laugh and lie
I am not that good.
But this very hoax transforms itself into truth.
And I begin to wonder
If I am feigning adoration
Or pretending the feint.
I do adore the faint
Smile on her plump lips.

The spasm of joy when
Her little hands wrap around me
Taunts me.
She is the one
Who desires
Me.
I cannot give in to the kicks of jealousy
I feel when she entertains another.
I will not permit the crumbling of my defenses
She effects when she rests her body upon mine.
And yet,
I eschew all intellectual obstructions
And dissolve in her, instinctually.

05/18/2011

Posted on 05/18/2011
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