Love Gives Birth to Hate

Released into you in a longing embrace,

I collapse in a gasping grasp of gratitude.

You receive me and feed me sweetness.

Against such intensity I have no defense.

Still, desire’s disease is never realized, is it,

as relief leaves with the urgency

of unrequited love, and I am left

once again to grapple single-handedly

with lust as you leave me alone

in favor of the phone.

I had a feeling something was going on

between you and the computer.

Passion gave way to contempt

as you made me feel neuter.

Yet arousal’s carousal proved

itself so relentless, I entered despotic

erotic dementia, my eroding aorta

entangled in tantalizing tentacles,

pursued by yapping snapping terriers

in enemy territory.  Every blood cell

determined to boost genitalia

as I yielded to displays of a mad Saturnalia,

then pondered the blunder that led to our baby,

a line riding a screen that soon stopped being wavy,

till I realized the infant in question was only

the love that I’d wasted my life on:  baloney.



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