L is for lovers
And their lustful lies.
The locks on the hearts
Of the laughing couple
Whose large desire for liberation never
Becomes a legitimate reason.
Liprings and low-cut jeans;
They lure the luscious lips
Of a liable treason.
A last minute lush,
A luxury of late.
Their lucid sin is hidden
Behind the linen lines.
Another luminous lullaby
Lunges for lunacy.
That fleeting insanity,
Lurking under a lost lyricist.
One more Lord's Prayer
One more long night
Before the loneliness of logic
Causes much lament.
The literature of liquor
Lingers much longer
Then the imperfection called love.
Loathing is lightheaded fun.
And the other side of the bed
Has become increasingly cold.
