Lovesick/ Sick of Love

There are no winners in love,

No losers either,

Just cliches catching you off-guard

At every street corner.

Love is a battlefield, of two (or more) humans

Resisting the slow invasion

Of their lover’s projected fantasies.

I tell myself that love can be broad, love can be narrow,
love can be easy, love can be a chore, love can you give you a purpose,
love can make you faithless, love can lift you up,
love can make your world go around and then topple off its axis,
but love won’t do the dishes.

I have myself believe that love is fashionable,
love is a commodity marking nearly all pop culture products,
love conquers all, love makes you devoted to a fallible god,
but love won’t pay the taxes.

I convince myself that love is clever, love is slow,
love is all that won’t superficially show,
love is a noose, love is a leash,
love is a jilted muse, love is a plea,
love is the sound of two hands clapping, love is an echo in the void,
but love won’t keep your safe from yourself.

I delude myself into thinking love is fair,
love is emancipated from the past,
love is rebellious, stability in love is conformity,
love is an itch you can’t scratch,
love is a scab that is peeled before it heals,
love is a flower whose scent makes you giddy,
but love alone won’t keep lovers together.