Love ain’t perfect
Even dragged down
And doing
The dirty deed in mud,
Or floated like a banner
Of conquest,
A bloody sword
A broken spear,
Bard’s bad poetry
Expended to
Keep his love
Interest from giving
Her purity
To the worms,
No one owns it
Though it often
Gets lost or mistaken
For its nasty twin
Lust,
All men crave it
Like me might gold,
Too scared we might
Never find it,
We settle for one
When it is the other
We want
Pain intolerable,
Starvation worse
Than death,
Sadder than life,
Deeper than any other
Sea we might sail,
You and me.
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