Love Bugs

Pleading the end of them,
To which happiness might stem.
What will the after bring?
Has the thought began to condemn?

To the heart they cling,
Some uneasy wrong they bring.
Yet nothing let's them leave,
Even if they try to sting.

Even if there's time to grieve,
There's more to roll down the sleeve.
What is it we try to hide,
But slowly love began to weave.

It beat the feet like a drum,
Begging them to come.

Wrapping wounds in a sling,
Taking souls under a wing.

This wasn't the first time it's been tried,
But now it's end is with a bride.