Some are there for the party, some are there for the part
In rumination a constant reverberating conscious dissertation
Without hesitation I have said that I love you off by heart but your ears are blind if your heart sees them not those darts

In retrospect I would inspect as I detect this heart's reflect
That you were nurtured some  kind of way, into a nature of some jaded doctrine
Taught to be an object and now a suspect of being a love ******
Many a things do they do the beautiful stones, treasures and shells
But it's all for nothing if the love language stays empty

A void to be never filled as wills are ill
Intentions are impure and stenched with all and every filth
I see the waves as the way you think of intimacy but lose the sight of what you feel within
Who you are to you and what you are to you
It goes back to how much emotion means and the steal of it, how it leaves you, the memory that becomes past
The moment that has passed
A flag of a could have and should have ship
Another X that will have them hex and you're on The Bewitched list again  except there won't be a show about you

The love pulse seems to be gone and silent, because when it comes and hits you; it's riveting, it's agony
Much like drowning or free falling on a very rocky surface without a parachute
It gives you a sense of urgency
It gives you a sense of urgency
It is not tomorrow, not yesterday, not then or when but now, always insistent at this very instant

The grooming then; what were the first words she told by grandmother, mother, sister or aunt - about men
The first words that modelled her becoming
The pictures that fragmented her imagination of personhood
The mantras that have built up as a Zeitgeist driving her gears of paradigms
The very itch in her egoic mind that longs for material satiation except it's never enough

Some are there for the party, some are there for the part
Some live and die for for the velocity of the transcendence of divinity
Some just keep up face
Keeping up face because the paste might replace a gaze of self-hate and inadequacy
You'll know where they stand and what they stand for by how they'll respond, what they'll say or won't say
To know what the love language is is to know what it's not
And our treasures who long to be crowned have been inculcated to calculate the degrees of lust and temporary gain, so nothing good lasts
And golden opportunities seem to just pass because nobody takes a glance at the true Romance Lingui Francua glass

They run for the telly and how flat the belly will look
But slow to write a message saying she's yearning and hungry for your love
So the love star starves and the children of tomorrow call this a fable
But see it's just jaded grooming
No impulse to give of oneself for a just cause, so how will they love wholeheartedly and the love dance rhythm adore?
Just another idyll for the abandoned book store that nobody takes a tour in anymore.