One always wants it more -
the other has to choose, perhaps
pities their needy, insecure
partner, or coldly slams the door
shut, conscious cruelty kidnaps
suckers who’ll want it even more.
Look closer - you’ll perceive the core
has deeper, darker, complex traps:
pity your lover as insecure
and under a pitiless, iron law
your licence to attract will lapse
making you the sap who wants it more
sensing but struggling to ignore
that even in bed you’re being fed scraps
of pity, for the insecure -
while your adored will soon adore
a heart more firmly under wraps,
become the fool who wants it more,
whose loop in hell is now secure...
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Tom Vaughan would be
pleased to hear them.