Sharks of Love
Much is said in cultivation,
Shallow words spent with seed.
Empty vows between the sheets,
‘Of course I love you baby.’
Toxic ailments of assurance,
Commitment breeds dependency.
This sepulchre I designed,
Where walls of doubt incessantly shrink.
A tomb which dims with every glance,
Yet limpidly I sit and think.
Prognostication is a ditch,
Living with Cassandra’s Curse,
To view before events unfurl,
These augurs indisputable.
Predictions based on things I’ve done,
Games I’ve often played and won.
O dilemma, consort of quandary,
Why does ambivalence prevail?
A heart divided cannot love,
Ergo romance is doomed to fail.
‘Tis strange to thirst and then to drown,
Dropped within the sultry water.
Petrified I couldn’t swim,
But in the depths I belong.
A Shark of Love once was I,
Domestic nets now thwart my flow.
That I may roam this ocean free,
And hunt the seas I used to know.
Copyright © Max Gatrell | Year Posted 2009
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