I hate that such drivel,

Dribbles from my mouth

Like thick globs of saliva

caused from languishing love

(or lust) -struck drooling.


Sickly sweet sentiments

Spluttering from inside me

Like venomous vomit

I resent her sweetness

Even as sugared candy


Drips in flattering praise

From my lips, in simpering tenderness

- yet for me satirical

Even when honest,

Ironic in the face of my values

I cannot let myself love

But even self-revulsion cannot halt

the flood of endearmeants

I endow upon her, floating

her on the tide of flattery


My love stands steadfast

in the tide of flowing waters

(flowing words too) and

I idolise her, eternalise her

In lyrical praise: poetic love


How can I hate what I love?

Despising the drabble drizzling

from love-worn lips and yet

loving her with sycophantic

awe. I hate my sentimentality


Whilst I love her with heart

laid bare, open to injury,

Perhaps it is longing for acceptance

And companionship that encourages us

to bestow the words that make us cringe.