How To Kill A Man

It’s enough to kill a man, unrequited love.

It’s enough to keep his Winters frigid

and his Summers smoldering.

He’ll rarely feel comfort anymore.

At times a glimmer crosses his eye

and normality kisses his forehead,

then skitters off down the lane,

laughing as the man’s futile stride

stumbles over a storm drain

Collapsing to his knees,

cursing what’s left

Of his mediocre life.