​I lied for you.

You lied for her.

I still miss the palm 

Which though held me ,held in frivolity.

Frigidity ungratified, losing of lust in reticent thrusts.

The giver dug a vacuum in her.

Which he couldn’t satiate,

The wood was carved, dented with blame.

All force awry.

All passion fade.

The end but says,

No one was laid.