Flesh is fragile

Rips with ease

Blood is a potion

That makes you weak at the knees

Weakness is a habit

That lays you bare

To the voices of reason

When there's no one there

Truth is the moon

On a snowblind night

Or a bare white wall

When your drinks been spiked

The tongue is a weapon

That can wound the heart

Or a serpent of pleasure

sliding through the dark

And love is a gambler

On a winning streak

Who rides her luck

But who plays for keeps

Hold the Queen of Hearts

And never sleeps

With strangers

(c) David Stansfield 2008