For some love is disease
Love strikes the heart
we want to gain the best of love
What must we give
Love not being just fitting genitalia
And moving it around
Love itself a strange mixture of forms
Sometimes pining, sometimes caring
Impossible unity
Attempts at completing the fragmentary
Which every fool declares is whole
Yet something remains unfinished
Even in post orgasm exhaustion
Obviously love is swallowed by routine
Fervor is drained and familiar obligation looms
overwhelming fires diw into embers
employed taboos wane become defunct
exorcised by daily humdrum beating
Remember heart's terminal velocity
Remember how the mind would obsess
The grip inevitably weakens
once so overpowering you prayed it would cool
and finally it has, not for mercy but for wear and tear
The feeling that its all or nothing now diminished
Love is that illusion that through itself spirals
The rush and the squeeze
The gusts and the breezes
The caresses that vex
Kisses that distort and twist
The agreements and the social brand
to sign off and engage
Breed spiral and age
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