Mercy me, how eagerly,
You wish to conquer and to claim me.
How sweet first must taste and be,
For nothing less could I believe,
Would wake such haste to tired sleep.

I perhaps neglect naïvety,
Pointing all too high at things,
Miss because I fail to see,
This comes for me too easily.

And so I warn you, yet unharmed,
Not too soon to imitate art,
For love here has no regard,
And your heart will not get far.

Or not to hear me, please proceed,
For I do simply want more needs,
And to extract instinct of disease,
Requires covered company,
So I may glimpse at clarity.

You will fall in repetition,
Divided by prolonged attention,
Unable to resist emotion,
Manifest in flesh - devotion.

And here I labor for my shot,
At rare release from mortal thought,
Another's heart its only cost,
"Please be mine!" and yours is lost.

Labored breathing, head to heart beating,
Anesthetic drugs are fleeting,
Instruments of love receding,
Carefully, "I must be leaving,"
Turns to talk of our next meeting.

Thus, you see, patterned competing, repeating.

T.W. Jolin