by Steven Mather
How desolate now the silent song
once born within your swan's throat;
false honey voice and silven words,
bringing light in sugar sandwiches
and turning each and every moment,
to fools' dishonest gold.
What grinning lies behind your goddess mask,
now hardened to the battered hearts;
shattered, bleeding in your wake?
Shimmering, glistening, radiant eyes.
False promise glows within those pools;
turning heads and making fools.
Where once I thought they gazed with lust,
your loveless, vacant frigid eyes,
deeply probing, searching, seeking.
No! Never was your gaze for me.
Only for your own reflected image,
which was and is your one true love.