You adore the idea of this thing called love, <br />Kisses and romance I'm just so sick of. <br />I believe love is an infection, something caught a virus, <br />Like your favorite flower, for instance like mine an iris, <br />Pretty in the ground, but after it’s picked will wilt and die, <br />Like love you adore the idea, but in the end you cry. <br />After infected with this horrible hallmark disease, <br />You'll smile but wait remember it's a temporary tease, <br />As soon as it settles it, it takes over and will spread, <br />When taken over you'll do things and lose your head. <br />You'll do things you never dreamt you'd do, <br />The wasted time and don't forget bills you'll accrue. <br />In the end you will sit there like that picked iris, <br />Heart wilted bank account drained nothing but a virus. <br /> <br />March 2008 (Dedicated to Vernon Burchett)<br /><br />Coreena Dejesus<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/03-11-2008-love-no-a-virus/
