The that...

[Hannibal]

The blood that spews forth from ones mouth,
In such exorbenant amounts so that they stop in awe at their work,
Is means of argument and disagreement between lovers,
But the name would imply otherwise,
Leading us to think of the happy heartfelt hugs,
The laughs that are so wholesome your body warms.
But lovers are not man and wife,
Nor will they ever be.
They are lovers, and they shall quarell,
As all do.
sharp words, and meaty realities lead to slicing of such proportions,
God himself would blush with embarassment,
That a human, could outdue one as great as He,
With words towards another, whom they "love".
Subdued agression lays behind every kind word,
Each warm embrace, timed to perfection from the last cold stare,
Hard glance.
The world seems a bit more tinted and blurry now,
No longer shall I wear the lenses that clear my vision,
I like it much better, when nothings clear,
And everything seems unseen.

[SHATOUSHKA]

i think the bulk of the living can agree with
your last two lines. the problem with the last
2 lines is... the rest of the poem, in all its
grand adjectives, betrays your finale.
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