Love is not love that cannot turn some tsarOf abstinence into a chump du jour
Who’ll spring for double shots at Cupid’s bar
And blow it like a landmine. Ah, l’amour.
It makes the clumsy bold enough to dance,
It guides the lost and faithless to Nirvana;
It lets the helpless think they have a chance
And makes Paul Pessimist a Pollyanna.
True love’s most real when it reveals how fake
I am. It swears that if I want to live,
Then I must die for someone else’s sake,
And never think of taking when I give,
And dare to be a fool—for in Love’s eyes
Only the foolish heart is counted wise.
Copyright 2013 Matthew J Wells