“He took advantage of me,” you say,
and I feel my serotonin skyrocket.
“Everyone else was with their boyfriends,
and I was just feeling lonely.” Okay.
Why do I want to tear his heart out?
Why do I want to wriggle under you
-r heart, inside your sympathy? You know,
this feeling of love we parade like a goddess?

Every human on earth subject to these desires.
And why? Because our ancestors needed to reproduce.
Just because I know it won't help things to fill
-up the void in my heart doesn't mean I don't
burn for a chance to explore you
-r innermost, unadulterated feelings.
I don't know why the hell I feel so -
you're not likely to reciprocate.

Can we move beyond this feeling of love
and realize it for a chemical phenomenon?
One that brings us all immense joy and pain
beyond imagining, beyond description.
One that drives our most basic of instincts,
and one important beyond comprehension.
A basic fact of life, beautiful not despite
but because of its biological roots.

And in moving beyond it, in posterity
realize exactly how poignant it was? Is?
Poignance does not a truth create.
It's no longer best for us to skyrocket
our populations, our feelings, because
there's a boundary, a finite amount of resources
or serotonin, and a life here to live in spite -
because of this fucking feeling of love.

In this experiment of reason versus emotion,
this natural experiment conducted for eons,
a winner is neither imminent nor expected.
For as I write this I feel the beating of my heart,
and I know I will grow to love, to use
sappy poetic metaphors to describe that
all-powerful, all-encompassing, simple, tiny,
exotic, familiar, anachronistic, nearsighted feeling of love.