the mistake

you’ve been mistaking lust for love
which explains why you can’t get enough.
you’re not the first to confound the two;
many have done so before there was you
and it’s simple to spy where the slip-up lies:
in the flick of her hips, the skin of her thighs.

you’ve been mistaking lust for love
which explains how you can get too much.
though not alone in your bewilderment
you struggle until your confusion is spent.
it’s apparent where paris’ arrow will strike:
with the lick of her lips, in the deadest of nights.

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