Crème Brulea Poem by Andrew Rose

And now I must find the words of love,
For what is life without these words above?
To keep oneself in place of passion,
Lips caress the night in romantic fashion.
Some would take it further so,
Let hearts unfurl and egos go,
Until in one sweaty heap they both do lay,
Asleep you hope as this is the face of sex,
The crème brulea.
But as one will find when they travel life’s strife,
That sex and love are found at different times,
And as one strapping lad beats away,
It’s not sex he hopes for,
But a flower to wilt,
True love… to beat his heart one day