In the beginning there is burning desire,
Pleasurable pain and incessant thudding against omniscient walls
Love burns bright with the glow of ethereal passion
As lovers trade scents and nail marks and scars
The days go quickly with patience and calm
And the nights go slow with ignited libido
As sweet and sticky honey flows expeditiously from a jar

Suddenly the serene beginning ends
The prominent, shrill cry of an egotistical infant sounds
Through a night that once was home to passion
Resentment lodges a spot in the marrows of tired bones
The nights are quick and well awaited
And the days are spent nursing and feeding and preparing for a paramount life
As sweet and sticky honey slows its thriving speed

All of the sudden, it is nor the beginning or the end
The age of sticky hands and Crayola and Goodnight moon
Little feet make floorboards creak at the end of the day with excitement
And the lack of lust is surrogated by the richness of love
Day jobs are dreary but devotion is not
The days go on and on and on
And the nights go quietly with small joys
As honey settles in its jar for what feels perpetual

Rapidly, it is the beginning of the end
Slammed doors and Aerosmith records blaring with bitterness
The egotistical child that once screeched for affection now rejects it
But love remains and despite dark rooms and harsh words traded with reckless abandon,
It overcomes
The days are lonely
And the nights are too
As the honey rapidly slips away

So it is the end
As trivial collections are arranged in boxes
To be shipped to a new home far away from this one
Old videos make for heartsickness and phone calls make for bittersweet joy
And elders reflect on a life that was not in vain
The floorboards still creak at the end of the day
Not with excitement, but rather with age
The days are quiet and
The nights are too but that is okay
The jar may be empty but the residue is sweeter still