Logorrhea

They leave their indelible mark,

One we won't soon forget,

When they take to brave hearts,

With venom-covered bayonet...

We think...we haven't reason to fret;

Our hearts we're quick to entrust,

With those whom we've just met,

Because to be loved is a must—

It's the calling of the desperate...

Ofttimes riddled with disgust.

In their pursuit,

Love they anthropomorphize;

But such fallacy is like

Partaking of the fruit,

From the Tree of Life—

After the fact, all is moot,

When you've taken in

That which of your life deprives.

The wrong love can be fatal;

It's virulent, malignant—

It poisons life ever so daedal,

And breaks the will of the innocent—

Yet regardless of how you feel,

Hear me when I say that you are beautiful,

And that you needn't feel diffident.

Moreover, God loves us ever so deeply,

He's our everything, constant and ubiquitous,

Always keeping qui vive,

Even, when we ourselves are wanton and reckless—

Disillusioned with humanity,

I simply recall Salvation's promise;

It's the one thing guaranteed,

When all else ensconces itself from us.

Yet...we—I can't give up on people,

Nor abjure from love completely,

For not all thereof is fatal,

And some people are in fact trustworthy;

I believe that from this Augean stable,

Shall emerge someone e'er so twee—

A woman fully capable...and willing to love me...

So, to those that still believe in true love,

The decency of humanity—

Those feeling they've something to prove,

Seeking some semblance of validity,

Beneath cool crescent cradled by sky above,

Whose luminescence flits across frothy sea,

Tonight stand for what you feel you deserve,

Because, yes, you are worthy...

...And so, too, am I.

- Kevin B. Waring