How do I diffuse
a hypersexual, electric fuse
of a time ticking,
brown eyed tricking
love bomber?

Tan tangled wires
pull me back into the mires
of modern dating warfare
Don up! For another bloody lust affair
in the city of love

This E-manuelle
is coded in French, but I can tell
where the steps will lead
cause embedded in this culture’s creed
is the art of romancing with no strings

Still I can’t lie, I like the attention
and the heat from the detonation
when he’s dancing underneath my
mini skirt In the beginning it’s always
fun, no hurt
Sex and smithereens blast through the summer
speaker

He calls me his bombshell,
say he’s under my dream girl spell
And even though he doesn’t really
know me He already knows that I’m
his one and only That is until

the shrapnels of novelty
no longer lacerate ecstasy
and I could go on ignoring
the fact that his bursts feel hollow, not
adoring I plea for slowness knowing an
armistice is upon us

My circumspection triggers a carnal explosion
This simple circuit conflates obsession with
devotion I retreat to the bunker!
Recalibrate and hunker
down in my dirt to strategize surrender

I wave my flag half mast
and salute another lust affair not meant to
last He’s overloaded, tripping for an
explanation as to why I’ve gone off and
killed the connection I tell him I’m holding
the line for the art of loving
        All wires cut. He’s back on the loose;
        rejects my offer of a friendly truce
        Ten days later, he posts his latest conquest
        Oorah. Looks like I’ve passed the military
        aptitude test Cause that love bomber
        is back with his ex.