this loving monster

there is no love
between man and woman,
there are only contracts
and spaces filled with
meat and marrow,
sprinkled with some distrust
and mostly
cheap seasonings,
to make it all go
down easier
there is a cup of blood
with a splash of what
was made of you,
what we thought love was
but was wrongly accused,
and now we fashion blades out
of bones,
to stab the last beast away,
this loving monster

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love is a monster. duh. idiot.

Tags

poem, love, monster, horrible

Jason Franklin, Dayton Ohio photographer.

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