Gaze upon my contoured brow, hollow love,
And recall our great age of contentment,
Once naked and new, now black leathered glove,
From passion to anger that you hath vent.
The summer that thrust us together so,
Has conceded to winter’s bitter chill,
Its fruits decaying, unable to grow,
Brick walls erected to conceal the thrill.
While thrice we united in acts of lust,
Not once did our brief affair turn to truth,
Deceived was I by your pressed heaving bust,
Like a madman void of his sweaty tooth.
Abandoned I am by your absence nigh,
As night yields to day, I grant thou goodbye.
© Copyright March 1999 Joshua Smith
