The Tomb of Memory

The eyes that goad are darkened now with sleep

And hands that tease are gentle in repose

This effigy of all I wish to keep

Is falsehood ‘neath veneer of charming prose.

Angelic devil, beast of carnal grace;

You lie, in state, and lie with true conviction.

A mask, well-sculpted, hides your private face;

Lips tarnished with wet breath of malediction.

It slips, you know, to show the rot within:

A leprous bloom erupts with ev’ry word

That creeps and coaxes, gently whetting sin

To cut the heart that flutters like a bird…

And yet, somehow, with time, my soul forgets

The hellish things you do for want of sex.

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