Feigned Inamorata

I wear a comely desuetude
of ephemeral bliss,
It’s evanescent silk
strung loosely together
by labyrinthine language
and languoring implications

I Sway this garment softly
along with the curves of my body,
it’s evocative nature winning over
the hearts of un-inured men
time and time again
to my fleeting affection

I slip this adornment off
revealing both the subtext
and the sleek surface
of my skin shining,
the hue matching the illusion
that the words wove prior

I stand tall in the nude
the final seduction of the eyes
I walk off in reality
the final reduction of fears
Because to bare my breasts
is to reveal the farce of my promise
And to speak the truth
is to disprove my desire


By Robert Berkowitz