by-Matthew F. Blowers III

Divorces Tomb.

It turns out quite tumultuous,

when folks become adulterous,

as one whose married seeks the bliss,

that can't be found in lonely fists,

or fingers curled to seek what's missed

in grown cold beds where two exist,

in contracts that have gone amiss.

It starts with one forbidden kiss,

then onto flesh bared, it persists,

escaping from love's dark abyss,

lust does not wane, it leads to this.

There is a craving men all share,

that drives them into each affair,

with women often unaware,

of wives who wait at home somewhere,

for husbands they can hardly bear.

There also lurks the need to cling,

when marriage denys everything,

as women strip their bejeweled rings,

and go to end their suffering.

But children are the victims left,

in homes once happy, left bereft,

where Mom and Dad's love has been cleft,

in massive weights each child must heft.

I don't condone these acts of heat,

but know that when love shares defeat,

those primal urges rise to greet,

the hungry, with warm lips so sweet.

So end your arguments that wound

lest you too seek a motel room,

and fall prey to adultery's swoon,

then wind up in divorces tomb