Love Struck

A New View


Love, it is written, owns no ilk

of happinesss. Cupid loathes

and creates mahem from habit with

a bow.


Love hovers waiting for martyrs and

saints to defeat catharsis, tame 

depression, and inflate self worth.


Lovers plunge in anyway knowing

the pit is deep and the fall long.

After all, the prize may be true

or life-dream long.







Author's Notes/Comments: 

Old poem totally reworked. Some of the older verses are incomprehensible or not my view now - so . . . :D slc

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