Funhouse Of Mirrors Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

It's tragic how love turns a corner and,
One or the other forgets to look back.
In search of the other, and continues alone.
They then forget the whole journey.
A fault that is a multiplicity
A fault divided equally by two, me & you.
It's then love enters the funhouse of mirrors.
Trips downstairs and gets locked in a coal cellar.
It's tragic how love is like a mature wine.
It can often turn bitter and be disappointing.