The lies drip from your lips
like warmed honey from the comb
coating my fingers with the bittersweet, sticky
lust you share for all women.
A chance I took to get caught
by my fingerprints left caked amongst
the many that came before, come after
to leave you cushioned should you stumble
But when the fool finally tripped, his bells clanging
all heads turn in laughter
to see your bed sold from beneath you
the cold pavement now tainted with dried blood.