The Awful Truth

Let me speak honestly when I say
I don't believe in love.
I am certain the colour brush of lust
Is real, who would deny the
Truth of a flammable response
To the bright nakedness of your latest
Lover's acquiescent body,
Who would deny the swift
Shift in the appointment of the cosmos
Since you first met at a fork in the road?
You tell yourself how fortunate you are
To have arrived on love's long lane
Not thinking that all ardour will turn cold
Eventually, and leave you stranded
Too far down a private road with no
Real hope of knowing how you came
To this impasse. Love doesn't last.