My Second-Hand Love Poem by Mark Heathcote

We fan-flame the fire; whose reach is higher
With vile words for fuel, hear them, transpire
Skewer each other; flame-licked like gutted fish,
Bulging-eyes are the other's dish.

It's long since either kissed the other
With a baited hook that says you, will not leave,
Leave me. You will not leave-for-another
Instead, words thoughts behave to misconceive.

Flames, submerge us both in our burning-oils
A token hand and the other recoils
What's changed? Why are we on opposite shores?
Once what was mine was without question yours.

How like an angler fish you want to dine
Stripe me bare like a tree in wintertime.
Chew me up and spit me out—quite grotesque
How you treat me and now turned statuesque.

Vulture talons are drawn to lacerate
How-is-it our love turns to bitter hate?
I cannot fathom, dear to understand
How its value can drop to second-hand.