I’m the first to lie awake
And the last to fall asleep.
At first love makes you happy
And then it makes you weep.
Why is love unhappy?  It’s easy to say,
The first time is when you cry when your lover slips away.
When they are gone, you want them back:
There is comfort, here is a panic attack.
Distance, which is normal, becomes pain and grows
Until your pain becomes pain your lover knows,
And when excess of love seems the only cure,
You find a love that’s rare but feel the pain more,
Until love becomes an urge and your mind goes back
To sweeter times—but now love’s a cul-de-sac
That blunts all desire; madness creeps in,
Bad taste follows your secret insight into sin;
Once a Botticelli smile, now love’s a smeary grin.
Please let me sleep, my poem is done.
Sleepless and loveless, here’s the sun…


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