Infusion

Lost. Lost. Lost in confusion
Lust lust the glove of illusion
Save a soul for now it’s sold as love is mere infusion

The wrong song has a place
Instrumental in its bow
Her lips give off a given taste
Incessant shows me how

A wink, I think of hidden lace
Theatre in her show
To drink away would only waste
The bond we fight to grow

Lost. Lost. Lost in confusion
Lust lust the glove of illusion
Save a soul for now it’s sold as love is mere infusion

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poem by Mark Richardson
Added by Poetry Lover
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