Did you know that the word preceding infect(ion) in the dictionary is infatuation?
In a demented mania for love, a predator finds its prey…only to become the prey himself.
The lioness circles and ensnares him, demanding his affections, attention, admiration, devotion, worship, passion, desire and lust.
Alas, in the lioness’ despotic grandiose display, she mistakes his acquiescence for reciprocity.
And the once predator escapes her grasp.
Railing and raging hurt spills over into wrath and she portrays herself as the victim/prey all along.
‘O’ all must mourn with me as I’ve been mauled and deceived again!’
The desperate, tormenting, craving for love set expectations too high…the compulsory urge to capture love has gone awry
Yet…who can capture love?
The audience of the lioness has dwindled and no one is left to hear her cry
All of her pack has left her growing bored of this redundant howl
Thoroughly exasperated (and critical) of her madden, banal, melodramatic plight
they have chosen abandonment over ridicule and scorn
A thoughtful parting gift to such a once great lioness
The lioness feels the great abyss upon her with remorse, anguish and guilt
Suddenly she wonders if this infection is in fact an affliction…
Or could it be an infliction…
Perhaps she drinks her own poison
Published by Not A Type Magazine