Poems · writing

“Treaty” part two

I set a lovely table, I offered you my finest wine,
But you had another appointment,
And you let the cup run dry.

You could have stayed with me, my dear,
And I could have called you mine. 
But you chose to answer another desire,
And you let the cup run dry.
I was art, you said, you wanted me,
And I wanted to call you mine.
But you chose another lover,
And you let the cup run dry.

You said you wanted to swim forever
In my warm and languid seas.
You could have washed ashore and lingered
And tangled yourself in me.
You could have held my books and learned my rites
But now I set you free
Because you said you were my lover,
But now you walk away from me.

When you were new there was a different tune,
But now the note has lost its grace -
I was cypress and I was lilies,
I was a thousand fragrant lines - I was every lover’s face.
I was the moon wheeling in her majesty above the sun’s wasted, empty rind.
There was incense on my name, figs and honey between my thighs,

But now you want a lesser lover,
So you’ve let the cup run dry.

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