Love

There are those who sing sweet hymns To love and still others talk of its pain I see only through a blurred frame Perhaps they see with more clarity. No pretence that there are tears pouring For you from my spotless bedsheets (Would that they would wash the sins of my floor) Besides there are three of you and Maybe more. No it’s not for you the long night Vigils or wandering soul upon Empty moon plains. Not you unseen, untouched, unspoken To dance upon my gravetomb. Love is a leech that sucks you dry And leaves in its wake only need You have all my blood could it be You desire my bone marrow too? And if love can live on paper Alone you have me a fool But perhaps that’s how you wanted It kneeling and trembling And always begging for more.