Untitled (for now)

I don't usually think of matters of the heart

but I fear I must do so, if only for my art

The beast of love makes beautiful poems written

When all others fade out; with two people: smitten

However, the most beloved works of prose were made

When love was lost, at what cost? Bodies in the ground laid

Love lasts not long, yet for some: a lifetime wasted

Still we long for the tainted fruit we never should have tasted

For love! For love!

The people sang

The church bells rang

Some people, for love, even changed!

For what? For what?

Innocent no more

Blood on the floor

A hundred dead bodies sweot out the door

I know I seem a touch dramatic

The resistance to love is automatic

My life is all but cinematic

Turning me into a heartbreak fanatic!

In truth, I crave this love as others do

I don't want to be on my own

But in truth, my dearies, we always die alone