she’s habit-forming, she is:
she’s a house of hidden fun —
she’ll love you like she really means
that you’re the only one

but try to catch the wind,
a baby’s laugh – a kitten’s purr —
and you’ll have better luck than if
you try to capture
her

he said he was in love, and that
he meant to tell his wife;
he didn’t want to hurt her, but
he wanted a new life

where he’d be young again, and know
a young girl’s adoration;
and driven by obsession, and
a type of desperation

he left to give the news, and i —
well, i could not begrudge
a man for chasing love; because
i’m not the man to judge

but, oh, how i felt sorry for
his long-time loving mate
to find she was redundant there
within their married state

and i know that relationships
are complex and obscure;
that human hearts are fickle things
and built to be unsure

by how i hate the field of love
beset by waste and bleakness;
and all the hurting bound to come
from so much
human
weakness