If by now nastiness is known to you,
Then this will be surprising as blossoms
In spring; but bear no doubt, it is deserved.
Shall I speak of long travels in the sun?
Every story of your past lies within
A lover’s walls, a trail of men held in darkness
And foolish damsels that your roving hands possessed
(And none of them a foe, none an equal
To my fingers’ pressure- saying nothing
Of the mind). So which town are you viewing?
Do citrus trees ring its beaten pathways?
Do ocean’s breezes pull life to the tide?
Does climate influence indiscretions?
Why then are your untruths eternally alike?
Are you as crafty as Odysseus,
To shout your name at a fire-blind Cyclops?
I made you deathless and I can send you below.
Bitch, return if you dare. I will drink from your bones.
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