It started out, a
four-letter-thing
Just another
profanity, a pubescent fling.
A ‘crazy’ cultivated irreverence
called ‘love’
Among others like ‘cool’
and ‘fuck’ and ‘faff’!
In the beginning, was
a hollow gut pain
A quickening and then
a long-drawn drain.
Dreary afternoons,
and much of the moon
Of nights framed by
windows, passing too soon.
A burst of pure
feeling, states we didn’t know
Hidden nights, dreamy
days, secrets like the big-O.
Now, I am glad we
bartered youth and that year
To earn this
bare-boned beauty, bought dear.
This thing, we leave
nameless, utterly ‘virgin’,
Elusive, we frame it
in tangential neologisms.
