If It’s True, It Must Be You
Ah, slick man of the cloth, a romantic marvel,
You spoke only of love and arduous affairs
with others.
And where was “she” in your basket of memories?
Pretty sad sight, a trembling young lass-
Her feelings of love were not of her choice
with tears in her heart and a lilt in her voice –
She wanted your heart with your words of silk,
she needed your kindness and love and words
she laid it all out for a smorgasbord treat
on her bosom you wiped off your muddy feet….
Mud from years of lies and anger
You find her sweet and reaching to heal
A heart of stone, a lying tongue
A poisonous venom to the world is flung.
But, by God, you fancy yourself holy
Holier than what, is forever unknown.
My anger for you has recently grown
Your seed of love? into me was sown.
You stole my soul, with a Cheshire smile
You played with my heart – and all the while
A mystical passion, was your style
You raped my heart – you boiled my bile.
Your winsome manners make way to darken
I’ve been here before, you’d think I’d hark’n
people like you operate oh, so smooth
and it’s much too late, my heart to soothe.
You’re not with whom I would vow; not what I wanted
my trust in love is not undaunted –
but with you, my friend, your burning anger sears
my flesh, my hurt, my stupidity – no tears.
"To the Master of Deception"
Copyright © December
2003 Amy
L. Allison
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