A man, whose every word I cannot trust,
corrosive for my soul like rust -
external falsehood and internal lies...
To conquer me he desperately tries.
He's trying to present himself as kind...
Temptation isn't entering my mind:
He's not the one who would my heart ignite
with all his efforts to appear polite.
I hate all pretences, any fake.
You'd give an inch, a mile he would take.
I cannot, like a fish, to take his bait,
although I feel sorry for his state.
Contender for my hand or for my heart,
he failed to master his seduction art.
In vain he attempts my mind to gas,
for I can see through him like through a glass.
His flowers, his poetry, and tears,
or compliments he's pedalling full gears,
cannot impress, I'll never be his spouse,
because he wants not me but wants my house!
8.04.2024
Admirer
© Copyright: Альбина Кумирова, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124050100362
Свидетельство о публикации №124050100362
Рецензии