He's a flirt with his anxieties,
Collecting tauted nerves.
She's a pen who haunts his remedies,
And with these words she serves.
He'll romanticize the painful,
And unto pleasure, gain.
Where a page was turned to tar,
With her baneful, poisoned stain.
All that glitters looks amiss,
While they write together sin.
Whereby lovers part by kiss,
Muses part by apitoxin....
Continue reading...