younger each week of love. They do not lie.
Half-seen behind loose hair, seductive eye
blinks, hints a smile, is gone. Swift darting tongue
checks lipline's contours. These things are the knives
with which she cuts and smooths, needles to stitch.
She takes age lines away, but leaves an itch
to have her carve our souls and change our lives
to be in love forever. Never write
except for songs of her, nor breathe save sighs
-orgasm or regret-, avert our eyes
from day's harsh facts, live in her dreamy night.
She tempts me so. I'll pay her surgeon's price
- once bankrupt in my heart, I'll risk it twice.