Mirage

by Melpomene

All that was
likened to an orchid,
slumbered 'pon my bed

Though his eyes sung -
nothing like the stars,
for stars shone in darkness
while he would cower
'tween sheets and
mask himself behind a moon.

To say his eyes were
coffee would curse my tongue,
for they could never be
as smooth behind fine lines
that frowned with age.

They said his hair would be
as soft as silk and his
hands as sleek as leather,

though they never spoke of
dirt 'neath nails,
or the fingertips pricked
each time I'd caress his head.

and his lips were peach indeed
but they compared not to
the blossoms of my garden, nor
the flavorsome fruit I'd eat
on a summers afternoon.

While he tasted sweet,
I'd always taste sweeter -
for I could resist his mouth
but my mouth would never
resist a lamington.

All that I felt,
was nothing less than love,
for I saw a heart of beauty
and thorns -

and learnt the nature
of illusive comparisons.