cHeAT

You cheat me my lord
With a promise made lies
No solace found here
In the archives of mind

For what is a memory
But the cheapest of wine
Distilled not with sweetness
But turned rancid with time

Seeping through cracked
crystal
Mocking and red
Tis a poor compensation
For the one who lies dead

You cheat me my lord

M P 7/4/22