Eight Count

Love had hit the canvas

Long before they rang the bell

Battered, bruised and bloodied

Round one had not gone well

Beaten by indifference 

Sucker-punched by pride

Reeling hard from body blows

No matter how it tried

Love could have been a contender

It could have won the bout

She left for someone better

Round two ended in a rout

Round three turned out badly

Though he prayed that she might stay

A rain of jabs and feints

Too many things got in the way

Rounds 4 through 9 were little better

Rounds Ten through fourteen took their toll

Still every time they rang the bell

Love left the corner and came out swinging

Love was sorely overmatched

But still it came out swinging

Every time they rang the bell

Left the corner, came out swinging

Beaten to the punch

Flailing away

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