Half prudence is, sharper than whole
When I, get on with, your conundrum
For you’re, my cherished, hyperbole
And the love, of you, my sweet venom!

Do bare, to me, your daring quests
With a, smirk on lips, and a glare in eyes
Don’t sum, as yet, count of conquests
As you, ambush truth, with wily lies!

You linger on, in your, chicaneries
Whilst a stoic me, stabs thru, the heart
Of the center-spread, of your masterpiece
Pride and, prejudice, two worlds apart!

Don’t conjecture yet, my, heart’s defeat
Don’t measure me, yet, with teaspoon
Sense the, bleeding spree, of your sweet deceit
As I Slice Your Peaches, With My Moon!

© 2018 Vikas Chandra