Old Habits Die Hard

There he goes,
falling into my trap
and I’ll let him.

Selfish and starved
for flattery,
a fleeting nourishment provided.

In his absence
my eyes are nomads,
sinful loiterers.

Blindly he’ll ask for my vow
of commitment,
and I’ll deceive him.

We’ll meet at the altar
streams of dolor.

Years settled in our union,
nestled in my sleep,
he’ll kiss my cheek.

He’ll whisper adornment
and depart in routine,
as will I, towards the arms of the other man.


3 thoughts on “Old Habits Die Hard

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