liar. by Patrick Bairamian

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I’ve devoured so many women,

I don’t even know who I am any more.

a gentleman with charming words

and chivalrous sway, around dancing

bodies and beautiful smiles

I can court the embering lust

burrowed in the heart of a virgin lover

too innocent for the bold cornea

watching their aching steps

to have a chance at love

made by the promises in my touch

to their shoulder

brisk brush to the arm

silent stroke to the cheek

hollow smile to their purring delight

as I look within to find a purpose

of why I lust as I do

after I was raised a gentleman

championed most of my existence

as the knight that women found their

safety behind

and now, the betrayer of these niceties

infested into my armor as the rust that

decays away with the sweet and tart

ferment of a broken promise

to keep these ladies whole

It is an urge I feel as the smile of a

winking eye, twitching gaze of happenstance love

enter a room to say hello

greeted by a handshake now

hug coming soon,

after their dress is lifted up

and their honor unlocked

put next to their undergarments

as they pepper the floor next to our

bodies

theirs the beauty

mine the beast

as I ravage innocence away with

strokes of barbarian thrusts

tallying another meat suit

into a book I’ve forgotten the location of.

Sweet, sweet loves.

How dare you bite my lip looking for

desire

looking for a love, from me, the appropriate

liar.

 

Patrick Bairamian is the founder and editor of No Name Press. His poem Made For… was featured on The Armenite earlier this week. He is also the author of a book of poetry entitled RogueHe can be reached at patrickbairamian -at- gmail.com.

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