The Byzantine

[busker]

I was drunk at our first tryst:  
you led me up the dark wooden stairs 
to your apartment.  We kissed, 
and as my tongue went searching 
down below your breasts, you whispered 
“There might be a little blood 
down there,” inspiring impotence 
and then tears.

Ashamed, 
I confessed to your lover
who was my friend and protector
as you knew I would,
I was just an ignorant pawn moved 
into position in an endgame 
to break his royal heart.

I had a tab of Purple Dragon,
you said “I want to be with you
when you take it, it’s like truth serum”
but I tripped alone
to prove I didn’t need you. 
 
I lay on my bed,
stared at the moon and laughed gleefully,
thinking of how I’d won you
away from another man I viewed
as a king but betrayed without remorse.
I watched a rat cross the wire 
from the broken down garage to my roof
as the truth came out in my laughter.
I would have made a good aspirant
in the court at Byzantium.

I was drunk at our first tryst:  you led me
up the dark wooden stairs to your apartment.
We kissed, my tongue 
went searching down your torso,
you whispered “There might be a little blood 
down there,” inspiring impotence and tears.

Ashamed, I confessed to your lover
as you knew I would,
I was just a pawn moved into position
to break his endgame heart.
You did not seem to care
and weeks later, my reward:  
I watched you undress
all was darkness and whispers.
I was silent through the sweet moment.

I had a tab of Purple Dragon,
you wanted to be there when I took it
because “that stuff is like truth serum”
but I took the acid without you.  I lay on my bed 
in the dilapidated GI housing I called home,
stared at the moon and laughed gleefully,
thinking of how I’d won a woman
in the underground war that sex has always been.

Outside the window a rodent crossed 
the wire from the broken down garage
into the attic where below I lay watching
as the truth came out in my laughter.
I was devious, an actor who threaded my way
to sex any way I could, like a high-wire
rat, a remorseless acrobat.  As you once said,
I would have made a good citizen of Byzantium.

The revision is a significant improvement on the original.
But editing out

I was devious, an actor who threaded my way

to sex any way I could, like a high-wire
rat, a remorseless acrobat.  

does rob the poem of its central message.
I wonder what the connection is with Byzantium, though. The emperor was opulent, but Byzantium is not associated with hedonism, only bureaucracy....?

In blue - a bit wordy.