OH, LOVERS


OH, LOVERS
 
You never should have fallen in love,
Never touched those lips with your trembling mouth
Nor mingled your breath with a breath not your own,
Until, breathless, you were brought down by desire.
 
Blinded by love,
Your eyes burnt out
By that implacable face staring at you,
Pulling you down
With its deadly understanding
Of your sick passion.
And you, refusing to see it mocked you.
 
There was always some confection of delight
Waiting to engage you.
Some new trick to disarm and enchant you.  
A decorative something
To hold on to. To plan.  To cling to.
As well put a snowflake on hot iron
For nothing could save you.
 
Lovers are lost
When one lover no longer loves,
And the other lives on yesterday’s passion.
 
                                                 © Gwen Grant
    
 

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