The Scars Of Lovers.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

a sharp sword
sharpens itself against
another sword
metal to metal
to the sound of the gritting teeth
one wants to imagine
an ecstasy of
a wound
blood dropping from
a slit on the
hand
there is none here
for this is but an affair
of a sword to another sword
thinking that
there is no war but love
in the air
sweet sounds of birds
sex moans and
calls for a mating
of the season

there is this hate that hides
inside the chest
where there is no option but
to sleep with
the one that never tickles you
not a bit
where love is feigned and
subdued
by need by survival by
pretenses

that man understands it
one can see the scars
not the stars......