In whispers shared 'neath moon's soft glow,
I've seen the jests, felt the undertow.
Your laughter dances, a mocking tune,
Leaving scars beneath the moon.

Your touch, a joke, a whispered tease,
My passion met with laughter's breeze.
A sting that lingers, sharp and cold,
A love story slowly turning old.

The fire I bring, you douse with wit,
My heart, a target you can't quite quit.
To others' ears, a jest you share,
But love's a garden, not a public square.

The weight of words, a heavy chain,
My confidence, a withering rain.
How can desire take flight and bloom,
When humor paints the lovers' tomb?

I yearn to halt this game of jest,
Where my advances become a test.
For in your humor, I find no mirth,
Only wounds upon my worth.

Soft words I'll speak, for you to see,
The pain your jests inflict on me.
To quell the laughter, stem the tide,
Of jokes that pierce, wounds deep inside.

Let you hear the depth of my plea,
To cease the jests, and set me free.
For in your arms, I seek solace sweet,
Where laughter's light and love's complete.

Let's talk, my love, beneath the moon,
Rebuild the trust, set love in tune.
For laughter's spark can set hearts free,
But shared desires need privacy.

With gentle words and feelings laid bare,
I'll bridge the gap, heal the wound we share.
For in your love, I find reprieve,
A love where laughter thrives, we believe.