In my experience

Love, like nature
has its teeth (all pointy with malefic intent)
and they chew through flesh
with no tinge of repugnance;
only hunger beyond the comprehension
of adulation,
yet love knows what becomes
of those who sputter marrow
with all the jollity
of carnal manners;
not just a piddly swollen belly,
and something more fruitful
than a poem-
but most men cannot stomach
the stench of guts
for too long,
how rotten love has become