Some primal urge to break abandoned factory windows with stones in passing,
or to break a companion’s heart with hard words at parting,
a type of deep, ancient, unkind, thoughtless impulse that wells up
despite our best efforts to suppress our dark natures in order to keep us sanely single.
Or a poisoning from which we attempt to protect ourselves
with self-administered non-lethal doses, each tiny sip –
a kiss refused or a steeling lie denying stirring emotions –
being a step closer to the guarantee of foiling attempts upon our hearts
(forgetting we may be shot, stabbed, or run over as alternative means to sealing romantic bliss).
No, some couples when asked about it, after a pause, will simply say
that love is raising healthy children who’ve given them their greatest happiness.
* * *
Listen to “Love’s Not”
Lanning Lee 