She whispers softly
over sips of Chianti
in sunlight shadows
and he believes her
silver lined promises

He closes his eyes
wanting her words
to be true, yet he knew
she was only
being true to herself

Another gullible lie
from her repertoire
of deception
refined with perfection
oh she was good at being bad

Still longing he lingers
in loopy love’s logic
in the bittersweet bouquet
of her lemon lies
and puckers once more
for the taste of sweet Chianti lips.

© Copyright 2010 Fran Marie