Love is useless as a passion.
It turns knitted hearts astray.
Walking through the deserts
The children one bore to that woman
Stood, with their halved lives.
They said, “Mother, do you love papa?”
She, being a fool said, “No.”
It was that uttered word that caused
The children to suffer so much ill.
Love was just a chemical—
And once the salts were made
From the Lemon and Soda
There was no more love.
The man, having fallen out of love with her long ago
Was at work, turning the leather upon a spoke
Dipping it in his tanning juice
Heating it,—he was content to come home
And see his wife, make love to only her,
Provide for his children.
But, when he got home the fool said to him,
“I do not love you.”
At that moment a passion erupted in the man
Which revolted her, for she could feel no such passion.
Though, it wasn’t the broken heart of lost endorphins.
It was a happy life, and doing what man and woman had always done,
That was taken from him.
And so with his children.
If I ever find a woman,
I hope she understands this.