This is the title poem from my second book. It was written (the book) during Memorial Day weekend of 1994, the last year I lived in West Virginia. Composed after my second divorce, oobviously the bites weren't fatal because I got married two more times. I guess I was looking for the prize.
LOVE BITES
Nibbling at the heart,
it causes damage even while
providing pleasure. To love
is to suffer. It is avoidable.
Bleeding comes from the
pressure of proximity, not
intention. Bandages provide
only temporary assistance.
Separation is always
inevitable. Desire plays
no role in the outcome. We
are prisoners of the finite.
Despite the prognosis
there are plenty of crusaders
ready to start the journey. The risk
of injury forgotten for a
chance at the prize.
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