Love is Useless as a Passion

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.

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