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Athenaeum
Another poem written over morning coffee.


Self-Deception



No matter who it is
Where we meet, what position we take
Its always the same
Those hot touches, steamy kisses
Always dreaming of him soaks through

Countless lovers, take his features
Whom would otherwise have no face
They are no one
Cheap substitutes to unleash my lust
A poor attempt to satisfy longing

Fantasies come relentless
There is no way to forget
Unmatched taste, smell
As far apart as they come
Still, still my imagination plays its trick
Desire for him over takes me

As haze of pleasure washes over
I see his face
Take solace in that sweet self-deception

This play has been enacted time and time again
In my folly, no one is truly jubilant
Forgive me






 
 
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