The moonlight plays across the velvety heat of his porcelain skin;
The madness, lust burning, the prodigal son waits to sin,
Altering history with a ravenous want, marring his own kin
The figure above him towers and watches with grim disgust,
Yet this pilfered beauty writhing beneath the blankets of the hard earth,
Stones—sticks impaling him, does naught but wait patiently,
Eager to satiate his want, those unbridled emotions,
At dawn he feigns scorn for dearest Lysander, at dusk evincing devotion.
The satin slides off Athenian shoulders,
Exposing the hunger emanating from the flesh,
But the eyes they call the window to thy soul,
Betray at their own expense.
Lysander stands at the pinnacle of lunacy,
To veil his fond allurement to Demetrius,
To him Hermia quite resembling a beloved sister,
Not lover, not lady but fruit bore from a self-same tree,
Is one, who singles out Venus' beauty,
But cruelty mocks Lysander and he,
Demetrius and Lysander, foolish in their youths cannot lie,
Nor embrace in the same bed,
For the world ever weeping,
the gods ever foreseeing,
Prophesies their shunned affection alone,
Despises the stains,
That profanes
The core of humanity.
The truth is palpable, no matter how soaked in sweet denial
For they are of the same kin.
Yet logic defies loving him, and so Lysander
Chooses not to believe his morose beliefs
He desires one that desires his lady—
Oh, it is but a carnal infatuation,
He bids himself time to get over it,
But could not will himself to.
Thy lady Hermia is his betrothed,
And,
Tonight shall steal away,
His errant tongue had slipped a false vow,
That he and thy lady will flee this place.
And with eternity spent, forgetting the heartfelt charm
Of his nocturne affair, together with Hermia—far from Athens,
The scrutiny of society, there he shall forget,
And live to regret,
His darling, his exotic whore
Till there be no more,
No trace of rendering attraction
Yet the heart sometime beguiles and speaks so dim,
The murmurs echo in his ears,
Like prosy winds in summer nights,
Beckoning him closer to his past and plights,
The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is to love and be loved in return [1]
But he shall never look back,
If tonight shall permit him to wed Hermia,
Because wanting Demetrius is wrong,
And loving him be worst.
[1] From Moulin Rouge.
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