Honey Moon

My wispy hair, like a spider's web,
Obscure -
The reflection of yellow light
From the questionable glisten
In your greedy eyes.

You want so much of this moment,
This moment of love -
It perishes, shrivelling miserably
In the scorch of your glare.

Yet again, I cremate
A parchment with a faded fairytale;
And finally bank the cozy cheque
Of 'guarantee'
In lieu of my hand.

Oct 27th and Nov 5th, 2009.