Still better than lust
in consumed passion
my heart longs for your true love
that flies wingless flight
yet your smiles cut through my dreams
sprouting love in fertile loam
as I so desired
so your love appears to me—
I, who beg for love
while it flows as in a stream
that has a source but no end
you want to deceive
with the love you only feign
appearing so true—
yet I mind not your fakeness
for it’s still better than lust
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