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Counterfeit.
Please share with me
a chortle at the pick-ups
they address with slyness
of a swarthy stranger’s grin.
I have masked
my loyal verity,
too clever for
a novice you,
as long as
isle of ewes
and clues are solely
treats of our collusive view prospective.
Temptations blunder with each
hopeless substitute for probity,
connected to blue lewd,
tilted ever so slightly,
my head to sunshine’s cuddle,
to steal the ease of our
confusion,
lengthening my tenderness,
inflating my faith.
Freedom from duplicity,
tissues short of tears,
knead my nakedness
and same size soul
with all your years.
