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.
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