The junk of love,
A notion perspiring.
Wanted by few,
Left all those desiring.
A torment unchecked,
By the few who flow with it.
Sweated out till you break,
Keeping the movement brewing.
This ***** love,
While one abates.
Another struggles to master its gates,
The end twiddling like thumbs.
Till the next thing arrives,
Breath kept in motion.
Don’t lose that drive,
So mend it or lose it.
Drive past,
Don’t abuse it.
This junk doesn’t last all the time,
No ***** will heal it.
Neither will those who appeal to it,
The wrong junk to have in your life.