Homage to No.129

(entered in the 'take on a role' competition)  
 
The foul destroyer of love is deceit.  
The lies, the hides, the smiles that break the trust  
All founded on that despicable conceit  
That treachery is but natural lust.  
So easy for a man to be taken  
By eyes, by mouth and by body posture.  
No thoughts of love let desire be shaken  
For libido of itself is so sure.  
No calculation of hurt is made  
Only those rash moments of want do count  
When he from sure constancy has strayed  
And fails the fatal allure to surmount.  
Every man knows what he is risking  
But few can resist the thrill of taking.