Is it treachery or sin to sense
that tenderness is war and tactics?
I felt neglected when you slept.
I went crazy when you sighed.
But when your hands in salacious fire
captured me, I melted darkly ardor.
Before the attack, with night our witness,
I grabbed the prized fruit of your venom.
Were we ever closer to an end than this?
We softly schemed with fingertips on skin
and went to sleep — knowing not
if tomorrow would bring rage and fury.
Is it treachery to sleep, when safety
depends on balance of destruction.