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
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.
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