Love seemingly a curse,
Unthankfully selfish,
Cares two hoots for those who cherish;
Thrives for its own sake,
Living in its own world,
Unaware of the poor seeker
Ignorant of the pitfalls
Making sacrifices unfair
To be burned out at its altar.
Romance, its cousin, likewise
Practised more for pleasure,
Indulgence, or art sake,
Or just for kicks near nature
Like butterflies and bulls.
The mature cousin
Loves mixed metaphors
In prose turned poesy,
Fantasizing heart’s content,
Pours out to one-sided Cupid silly
Playing guitars for the gallery,
Or mouthing sweet nothings,
Runs around the absent trees and shrubs,
Expecting miracles ecstatic—
Alas, those confused arousals.
Bitching betwixt love ‘n' romance,
Hearts and hormones fall apart
Love lasting albeit unrewarded;
Yet surely invited warmly
At pearly gates opened wide.
