Lies of allure

How did you learn to tell sweet jasmine lies?

listen to your sighs?

whisper words to melt his heart,

your 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,

smash something,

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.