Disappointing Intuition Poem by Sandra Feldman

Intuitively,
One knows certain things
Without being told.
Fortunately,
Like feathered things
We know when Spring arrives
When love,
At youth's portals sings
When we're deprived
Of our most basic needs
Of companionship,
Affection,
But we also understand
Deception,
The mockery of affection
And when others play
Hypocritical conception.

Please, please,
Don't say a word
You cannot light a fire
Where there is no more
Desire,
Just with words.
Those who love,
Surely understand,
That when the passion
Is put out
There are no more,
Extensions, pretensions,
That once it's over,
It's over,
The only trouble is
That if the twain
Don't meet,
And one still loves the other
A tremendous rupture occurs
For which there is no cure,
All illusions will,
Have then died
Not leaving enough time
For all the pain
To be cried,
As life's light dwindles,
Being totally put,
To one side.