Love don't last.

Love don’t last:
even tides have their time,
besides, heartfelt perils betide
those of weakest mind—
sinister biology, astronomers,
seeking mates or brides,
delicate, as precious finds,
swearing numb oaths, till gentle ghosts.

Love, don’t last:
I’d beg it, true, with pleas,
unrepentant love and care for
these darlings past,
who rise and cast shadows
over rationale, sound, or reason,
hung like treasonous fiends—
a primordial warmth that warmth brings.