Articles on superbugs created from the overuse of chemical antibiotics and a new incurable and deadly strain of an STD (Gonorrhea) from the pandemic prompted this poem.
LOVE OR THAT OTHER L WORD
Looks turning into burning desires
Over time or distance made, pyres.
Value was not given, just a thrill quickly gone
Evenings spent in sweat with a hollow dawn
Over the ages, this passes as forsaken love
Rightly it's not, just a mitten, not a glove
Tingles are had with love, and with this
How to discern the fake from absolute bliss
Attraction needs more than just a swift
Trot in the night, enduring the dawn's rift
Only the passing of time will decide if a tingle.
Truly is a spiritual connection or a single
Hurl into a couple that never should
Enter but stay as a friend or oust as wormwood
Rococo Tunes is playing on a vessel passing
Lust as a glamour, an enticement to declassing
Wonderful matching, not seen by the grinding
Of a quick fix, a tumble or two, without binding
Restless in spirit, allowing the fake
Delectation for a shallow slake.
~PLS/PCS~1/4/2021
updated 1.3.2023
Having multiple partners and having an anything-goes attitude is no longer a laughing matter. The seriousness of this new strain is no antibiotic can arrest it or kill it. It progresses in one direction, die sooner than expected.
May be an image of cloud, tree, nature and twilight
All reactions:
Jas Russo, Donna Peay and 4 others

 

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