Funhouse Of Mirrors Poem by Mark Heathcote

It's tragic how love turns a corner and-
one or the other forgets to look back
in search of the other and continues alone.
They then are forgetting the-whole-journey
a fault that-is-a multiplicity,
a fault divided equally by two, me and you.
It's then love enters the funhouse of mirrors
trips-downstairs get locked in a coal cellar.
It's tragic how love is like a mature wine
often can turn bitter and then disappoint.