My Lover, Love

He is everywhere,

In the eyes of two people who are of one soul

In every sigh and touch placed with care

In the essence of the procession; which the church's bell with joy, may toll.

 

His home is the heart of those who dream of him,

Those who have fallen under his spell,

Those who feel him in every limb,

And finally, those who wish to thrust him into the darkest pits of hell

 

But he holds no rancor for those poor souls, who feel he has deceived them,

For he knows that he is not always “fair”

And sometimes, by giving others more and give others less, causes despair;

Like giving one woman a dress and another nothing more than the hem.

 

And I, I pity the fool who has fallen under his spell

And has submitted to his gentle caress; because in the end he will make you scream and beg and cry

For he is a lie,

He has trapped many and will trap you as well.

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