A Measured Gaffe

@08-12-2019, Olan L. Smith

He slips through the webbing of her fingers,

A syrup sticks to an enigma and lingers,

It is a winter's night in the tundra of life;

Her love for him is hateful in this world's strife.

His love is too fawning as her hunger

She churns in revulsion of his honeyed thunder.

Her soul craves more, her mind in enquiry

Testifies, "Run! Beyond this penitentiary."

She leaves him, because of his impenitence,

Trying to flee her own exorbitance;

Her own anxieties, and burdens

Of her far-flung inner villains.