Who They Really Are

Cold and cruel, yet ever moving on.
Hard and crass, just like the molded
stone the glass is shattering upon.
Gentle-men, they call themselves,
when all is said and done.

Top hat tilted, gold handled cane,
until behind closed doors again.
Suit and tie to go to Church
and vest religiosity, impeccably
within accepted social styles
of respect.

Then evening comes, a late night
stroll, to meet their mistress, ever
bold. 'Tis here the truth is told.
For she has sworn to never tell
a soul just who they really are.

Hidden in a midnight mist, kiss
kindling the deepest of desires.
God and duty overridden, only in
these stolen, secret moments
of release. Speaking words of love
that disappear within the light of day.

Cold and cruel, yet ever moving on.
Hard and crass, just like the molded
stone the glass is shattering upon.
Gentle-men, they call themselves,
when all is said and done...

? Michaelette ?

2/17/2002
Copyright© 2002 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...