Of Lovers, Nine — Stephen Donald Huff

A silly titmouse once sang sweetly to describe love as “a many-splendored thing”. Perhaps this is so. For some. For others, love's terrible spectacle shines in its many violent twists and unexpected turns. Each feckless angle of its affection or disaffection invariably leaves a disfiguring blemish that renders exquisite facets of character from alternating impacts of tragedy, disaster, triumph and ecstasy. Too briefly, desire's artistry sparkles the amazed eye with a fateful brilliance before fiery passion fades to leave its victims cold and trembling in its wake. Steal a secret moment now and listen to your heart. It confides. Of teenage angst confronting violent adversity; of lifelong hatred and loathing coming to terms with unavoidable destiny; of grotesque endowments and wicked lusts that render perverse infatuations; of eternity revealed in a bullet and of heaven cut from the fabric of relentless devotion; of desperately needy youth and its frustrated motherhood; of black-draped mourning in absence of mercy, and of eternal longing that spans endless highways; such twisted threads weave life's strange tapestry. Of love, here find endless variations, and of lovers, nine.