Wear your best face; I’ll wear my freshest–
we’ll lie to each other in sweetest of ways.
Pretense of perfection: we practice entrapment,
hoping against hope that the other will stay.
Under blanket of fog, with the wind and the rain
we’ll move: two shadows that kiss and depart.
And when it’s all over and the magic has faded,
we’ll remind ourselves why love’s the deadliest art.
(It’s been a long time since I’ve written verse with a classic rhyme-scheme. Feels sort of fun. :)) )