Some say ‘Ah, but love is sweet!

Like candy kisses on the skin,

the sugar can’t be beat!’

Fools, I say,

for they know nothing.

Love offers no silverware

and pours the weakest

of apologies into your glass.

Love expects you

to eat with your hands

and steal that dinner roll

from your neighbor.

Love’s party is

the only party

you shall ever attend

where the host prays

you leave bruised

and empty

from her table.

Love’s a lot like supper

with a wayward Aunt

who’s mentally unstable.

~j