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All You Love Is Need

                          My Eros is crucified.
                                              —St. Ignatius


                          ...so don't mess around,
                          don't mess around with me.

                                              —Elvis


I chose poorly.
Friends. Lovers. Others.
Chose more carefully
if less often
than anyone I know—terrible!
My habitual ideas
slowly poisoning me.
I didn't learn a thing about taking
joy in measured extravagance.
The only unwise love is to love
him or her who cannot love.
All psychology is probability.
Failure may be guaranteed.
What they don't tell you
(but you should have known)
is that Plato's fire
is love.
So now what?

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.