The infidels

Many are a tale of them words infidel
Some spurn woos and some negate advances
Am left aching with a chronic numb pain
That sure is to haunt me forever so again
Aye, bitter are your treacherous amorous innates
Nonchalant and uncaring if my pain allays
Am getting used to the pungent stench of despair
Somewhere up close perilously wafting in the air
Can’t miss the blaspheme in your hide and seek
Some playing the obvious and some the elusive
Thank heavens for my couch full of ironies
I can still sieve the genuine from the cronies
You camouflage well and begin as a thought
Kaleidoscoped in a myriad shades palettes and secrets
Whispering me some and persuading me of the other
There I go lose my way hither and thither
Oh words it ain’t me who holds a grudge or two
Am ever so honored to have you on the girdle
Galloping the grace of an Afghan thoroughbred
Cantering the unbridled wild and inciting the dread
But may be it’s time to morph the simile a bit
You bond as a muse and fail as the wretched
Am done calling you names slander and libel
But hey many are a tale of them words infidel