no
my lust is past longingly
laying in bed nude
hopelessly thinking of you

how so?
I figured it must be your pride
because I find myself unraveling
each and every one of your lies 

indulging me is a means to a bitter end
an eternity would waste away

and I am left with love letters to still be sent
because desire, even in words, would never decay

and you are mine
between every sole drop of wine