A Liar’s Lament
Gently, reverently, you take her soft hands
For her to look up at you with widest of eyes
In her most desperate voice she whispers
“Explain to me then, what...
Pygmalion
Why shouldn’t I just, manufacture you
The thought arose one grim afternoon
A standard mold, dubiously groomed
Inspiring misandry, my vision was to fruit
Temptress
You raise your incredibly ugly, and yet
oh so enticing otherworldly head
Wink at me from paper, from the white
of that annoyingly fluorescent fish catching net