Rather busy at the moment. But here's a poem draft.
Metaphors in Love Poems
A lover is a carrion bird
drinking from the eyes,
those stagnant puddles of purest blue
wherein the lover dies;
and he is overcome and ill
with fever and disease
that makes his hours as golden-sweet
as the vomiting of bees.
The obscenest flowers in the wind
are more modest far than she,
who wafts her scent in every place
to slave those who were free.
And the kiss of those vivid red-rock lips
spreads poison in the veins
that makes the lover feel on fire
with madness in the brain.
O love, it is the whitest thing
that is bleached beneath the sun,
the cleverest germ in an endless war
that no one has ever won;
it turns us all into cannibals,
idolaters, misers, beasts;
it enchants us with a hungry need
on loved one's flesh to feast.
And saying that, you can surely see
how lovely love must be;
how it ensorcels men alive
with wanton witchery!
