#Poetry #Love #Longing

The Beauty of heavens—where does she lie?

Temptingly red lips, a snare waiting in lie.

Caressed between her silky beds, with her I lie.

Passing dream forgotten in my wake—she was a lie.

Though she lies within my lie, my aching heart is but a lie.

Could I still lie within her thigh, or is she a lie haunting my sigh?