The angels smile wanly at how gently I'm led astray.
The joy she improves from my pain is matched only by the pleasure I collect from her counterfeit love.
I plead for release but it's not granted.
She keeps me close, knowing that my loyalty may be sustained solely by her false promise.
She discerns that her every wish her unquenchable desire will be fully admitted.
She need only entice me with fanciful hope.
Hope not for what is given but for what is denied.
She will conceed me any longing, every compulsion, save one.
Never will she avow that single and perfect aspiration to touch her softness, to hold just for a moment her tenderness.
-Johnny V.
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