He pretends to care about your secret desires, not out of liking, but to better take aim at what you feel. He asks you a thousand question, but better not ask him any.
He makes you believe you’re in control, when lives, he manipulated many!
What is missing in your life? Tell me, girl! What you desire most, I can promise you, my pearl! No unattainable wish for you and “I”. We can strive and long for all, would I lie?!
He knows what makes you keen, he gets under your skin, under your habits and weak addictions, trying to obscure your intuition, till you are tender and lean! When you are ripe and feeble, he seduces and presents the deal: “Oh, baby, this feels so right, I feel so happy and all is real, and tomorrow we’ll have our fortune wheel.”
When you realize his empty promises, he has no more cards to deal.
He takes his distance and hides, to better manipulate you, to operate his zeal.
Now you feel you need him as a fix; and all your being trembles and mix. Unreasonable you were, and pushed him away; you are crazy, and your needs are surreal. Meanwhile, you sexily pause on your crucifix, while you rot, what a fine seal!
When you least expect him, he returns, crying, pleading, claiming his need is forever real.
That’s why he was there in the first place, to help you share that ideal! So he with a glance screams, begs, and kneels: “Oh, darling, how I miss you, love you, will never leave you! Take me back, let me save us, let me save you, I’ll answer all your questions, I’m no eel!”
A break from your cross, you think. He hugs you before you can blink. Then he swears that there’s a better tomorrow, to give him enough time to take and borrow.
To ravish your being, better your life to steal, to lease your blood, so he can heal.
You now begin to realize, it’s time to close your heart and open your eyes.
You planted a manipulative grain in your secret garden; you planted that poisonous herb, that bad seed! You invited him under your loving tree, and when you shift your head,
He buries you underneath it, and sing a love song to his new invitee.
In your garden he nests—this pest—above your grave, he sips your afternoon tea.
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