Her infidel lover from the skies.
But a twisted desire boils in my blood,
It knows that I crave more than her charms,
I want to see her sad tears, eyes in flood,
And hear, once again, her wish, "This time, please stay."
As before, I’ll refuse, taking my thrill
From this denial and thoughts of our adieu.
More joy’s in knowing this is no vaudeville,
Her pleadings to me arise from real love:
Her love - that I choreograph to seem true -
While fetish sculpts pleasure out of my lies.
You think that’s bad? Though just arrived, I can’t wait
For her parting sobs on the way to the gate.
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