Love drugs like cocaine, alcohol or dopamine.

©WXAG
Love drugs like cocaine, alcohol or dopamine.
Can’t see, though vision 20/20. Walking almost in a dream.
Love a wonderful thing! So they say. It’s just a feeling.
Joy, bliss, can’t do without! Here now soon gone a fleeting.

Love and lust masquerade almost undistinguishable.
For man biological. Nothing magical or unfathomable.
Procreation the genetic game. Sperm and egg hook n twirl in dance, most imaginable.
Lust, you must accept is analysable.

Elusive soul mates search, confidence erasable.
Dating-mating ritual, errors repeatable.
Monogamy ensures guarantee. Bit of lecherous activity plenty fulfil-able.
Here, Love is a veneer. Becoming a futile process. Derogatory and degradable.

Woman chooses donor willing and pliable.
Attraction may be hips, eyes, shoulders, pheromone. All human and predictable.
Royal envoy of the next generation, a glory, all that is woman.
She is love instilled, distilled, personified and unquestionable,

Must man cast his seed far and wide, or risk his genetic line become extinguishable?
All man appears to be is a daily endless stream of semen; entirely uncontrollable.
His manner, appearance, physique, wealth merely a transport for all that is spermeable.
She alone has the power and choice. Purely, genuinely adorable.

Surely, societies where weak men seek to gain control, laughable!
Cover her up from head to toe, hide her allure, charm, beauty all that is delectable
No shape or form. No tiny detail, explicit, implicit or explicable.
Yet gloved, hooded, garbed from head to toe, she sways with cyclical rhythm embodied in her receptacle.

Her aura fills and surrounds every little step of her delicate little foot. Wholly detectable.
She deliberately speeds up, walks in front of you.
Sweet rhythm of her sway, almost danceable.
Her garb, irrelevant, transparent, body aura; screamable.
“I am woman, desirable”

History bedecked with gems Like Cleopatra enticing not just Julius Ceaser but Mark Anthony too.
Did Henry the 8th choose his wives or did they make themselves obviously available.
Adam first then Eve. Who wrote that story? Man probably. Probability questionable.
Man can be devious, forceable. Cons, lies and trickable
Love he will find is evaporateable.

Man is not in control. Never was, never will, or ever till the future, infinitable.
Lust we know, love no! Can it really be existable?
Seems like it does, so excitable, undefineable.
This feeling that overcomes grips one’s being and every moment, to act all irrationable.

Armed warrior, an arsenal of myriad weapons at her disposal.
Her consent is all that’s needable.
“Enter my space, you are acceptable”.
Man chasing not the choosing. Think fool you do, consequences damnable.
Man’s best option; Cold calling, “numbers mate”. Is she available?
Even dating guru’s teach n preach, “look for cue’s, readable”

“To have and to hold till death do us part”, can it be deniable?
In divorce courts evidently swearable.
To have and to hold should work, equally enjoyable.
Perhaps only when he respects her consent, his acts of admiration she feels, palpable.

She should be the zenith of desire, glorious and favourable.
Chemicals explode in the head, love brims, flows, actions follow pleasureable.
Love could be a contract. His admiration, dedication – to her accepting consent. Devoutable.
Sealed. Lips meet. Electric flash, love unmistakeable.

If man, on opening his eyes were to say to himself, “I am special, for she chose me”
Would he not gaze upon her, breathing softly by his side, feeling loveable?
Adore every strand of hair on her head. Hold one strand in his palm, feel the weight, marvel, protect and be esteemable.

Their love intense, like New Year’s eve fireworks display, totally explodeable.
Love with respect, prized, cherished and hoardable
Stride together. Yet each autonomous, through trials of life’s crucible.
Love should endure. Eternal, everlasting and durable.

©WXAG