The Anti-Love Potion

When eventually he realised the trap was closed and he was snared,

He tried to analyse his inner feelings, yet his heart overruled mental commands,

He knew the longing would only grow; he was snared, trapped and netted,

Ironically, his trap had entrapped him, by the netting waves of his own desire,

He had only want to touch, just fleetingly her hair, but, but, her eyes, his need,

Oh! God, he was lost, lost to a desire experienced by most of his ilk, Man ,

He thought a million thoughts; all were interrupted by images of her,

Her eyes, her ears, her nose, her breast, her hips, her lips, and her hair,

Each image deeply engraved in his mind, like an enlarged photo memorabilia,

His recall amazed him, even down to the smallest spot in the corner of her mouth,

He tried to recall a way to elude this threat to his independence,

The old remedies are the best he thought, Love potions, No! Anti- Love potions!

Was there such a concoction, the searches, enquirys, hunts, then he finds, at last release,

Her face so haunting, the need to be near was destroying his lifetime quest,

To remain a bachelor, to be his own person, to use woman as destiny had preordained,

As a possession, to be tied to her Man, a part of him, not a weight,

There to fulfill his needs, not a slave, not a tool, aye! The both and more,

He held the Anti-Love potion to his lips, she flashed before his eyes,

Slowly he drank the potion, she faded away, his heart felt empty, and he felt sad,

He would never know his loss now, so he did not care, but Love would strike again if he is truly a man.

After all, 'Omina Vincit Amor, Love Conquers All'