The Dance

The way I see love to work.

Boys are creatures
Easy to forget
Easy to fuck
Easy to forgive

Girls are creatures
Hard to please
Hard to keep
Hard to tease

And, like mindless zombies, we dance.
Crazed for the final prize of reassurance
The prize of love, of lust, of one another

But we all loose a thousand times before we find victory
And by then we are bitter and stoned
Bruised and want to be left alone