The End of Love

The End of Love

by Scott Owens


There is nothing more desperate
for denial or release.
For years you saw it coming,
suppressed desire for the young
woman in the office, chastised
yourself for lingering at work,
taking the long way home.
It doesn’t happen in a rush
of passion like in the movies.
Nothing happens like in the movies.
It’s more the slow drip
of morphine in the bloodstream
dulling interest in what you have,
making every conversation an act of will,
every shared moment too weak for dread.
And then you realize it was never about
the body, mere expression of what is lost.
It was always the inexplicable growth
of unfulfillment until conclusion becomes
essential, and you hope, pray, resolve
you’ll never let it happen again.


-Refers from the phrase “tell the truth about love” in Amorak Huey’s poem The Contortionist Twists the Bearded Lady’s Word & Things Get a Little Hairy Between Them