why do i always fall in love with a poet

a broken sonnet, as lise's behest.

so they make  pretty rhymes,,
singing, sweet  in my ear,
promises- pernicious
reminders, pretty lies

oh they'll sleep with you, fine.
play house , maybe a year.
things seem so delicious
that's when they realize

the cave became tighter
they  need  to switch gears.

i'm guilty of this too
caught in moods that wallow
through caravans of mud;
ride trains composed of stars.

i'm sure it's hard on you
should you lead or follow
me through fields of love
engaging in poetic ars?

it's  alike,we are- too. oroborous' wallow.