PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Now now, my dear, please explain this to me

Your finger tips are grazing my cheek, softly; slowly.

What kind of love is this? Please, just tell me;

Because deep down, I feel sick, sick with deceit.



Your lips brush over mine, slowly, gently;

And yet, sinfully, I'm giving into this burning need.

I'm a fool, I'm a goddess, drowning within this sea;

This sea of longing, this sea of useless, decaying bodies.



My body will join theirs soon, I have this feeling;

All along, your sinful lips have been decieving me.

Your hands roaming over my hips, my back and face ---

Never has anybody made me feel such utter and complete disgrace.



So tell me, my dear. Is this what you've been longing for?

To see my innocence dissapear. Like another useless whore?

So tell me, my dear. What if I were to say yes to you?

Would you throw me away? Just like I |knew you always would.|