How did he learn to tell sweet jasmine lies?
listen to your sighs?
whisper words to melt your heart,
his part in your game.
And how did he learn to pass you by?
resist the allure of your mahogany eyes,
stop the beat of his traitorous heart,
forget your face in hard velvet dark?
And when he tramples through your dreams at night
do you pull down the shutters and bolt the door?
curl into your cosy cul-de-sac,
reassure yourself you’ve been here before,
silently whisper “please god, no more...”
Did you piece together your jigsaw heart?
Hell, you know the story,
been there before,
have a cry,
drink the pub dry.
Why not lure someone to bed?
casual sex is good for the head,
a tourniquet for self-esteem.
When you see him in
another drenched sheet night,
another shattered dream,
you’re just a cymbal-clash
citizen of a sideshow city
in a tinpan alley world.
So when you lie do you dress it in
tinsel and frippery?
watch the stars in case his eyes
lose sparkle through your tears,
scintillate your fear with
desire swept along his river,
to that dark lake
where nothing is given
and all is lost in
those lies of allure.