The Last Love Letter

We’ve been familiars since the stroke of time,
My love,
I’ve adored you
Since before the creation of God
We’ve shared a million lifespans
And crimes
I was the original sperm
And you,
The egg
With great legs
Sublime
You dubbed me "your verbal prince"
(or vorpal blade?)
With blank sheet of parchment
Or, back then,
Papyrus,
I would philosophize
Scrawled out, then spoken, lines
You said you felt my thoughts "profound"...
I longed so to agree
Conceitedly,
(admittedly),
My wit flowed fresh
The logic, sound
But nevertheless
Such is the travail of a poet:
To write “les pensées” down.
I strove to keep the beat
Maintain a status quo of heat
Between us
(Immodest humping dog, was I)
(you never seemed to mind)
I wrote you sonnets
And triads about your bonnets
Blank verse when you had the curse
We were naughty,
Then angelic (hah)
Love for us was psychedelic
Such a trip
With my hot breath upon your lip
My rough unshaven face
Like some rumble in the jungle ape
You said I was the perfect lover,
And,
“’twas true,”
At least,
'twas true for you
By mutual consent
And to extreme extent
That was our game:
My art was to induce,
My craft, obtuse,
I would pen, and you
Would be seduced,
Aroused,
(and flattered then)
I was verbose, and you,
Un-bloused.
(Those shabby little verses that
We knew no one would see,
Please!
Such scruples never mattered)
We did this for centuries
Love letters
Constantly
I owned your appetite
And you owned me
But now we face the end, my love
This is our final hour
This is my last love letter
I find I must retire
This love, it was my passion,
My food,
My fury,
My fashion,
This love was my best friend,
Sweet heart
But now it’s time
And we must part
Our love must end
My love, my friend,
We could not have done this better…
But at long last,
My last
Final
Love letter.

Nothing lasts forever.