Each night as we transpire
my will to you retires and reshapes
with a god-tailored beauty of my similar design,
but with life more bold,
with curves more outrageous and real.
Her heart never flutters nor her lashes as she sleeps.
Her lips quiver in the inaudible whispers
I will myself not to reply, for in my honor
I am yours, and while her body traps your soul,
She is not mine; she is not you.
Your gentleness flees as you awake
regaining herculean features, an anatomy
my eyes failed to explore, or refused
beneath your twilight blanket
as your steadily heaving breasts crested like waves.
Methodically, each night as the lights grow dim,
your eyes fade from blue to brown,
your hair from blonde to black
and I, never changing,
watch you fall in love.