My love for the world

is something prodigious:

agape perhaps,

(but still not religious.)

Not ludic I guess,

though with all congruity

I'm not one to judge

a bit of promiscuity.

Storgic might fit,

it beats useless adoring

though for odd birds like me

is still far too boring.

Ah! for those with occasional

low self esteem

I guess mania works -

but I’m not that extreme.

Now limerence seems right:

my usual affection,

and the fraying of ties

with inevitable rejection.

Not burning like eros,

with fire like magma

don’t send me cut flowers;

I’ll answer with pragma.

Pragmatic, that’s me!

It might be the solution,

(though in the extreme

can suggest prostitution.)

But considering these

is just for the fun of it;

at the end of the poem

I still believe in none* of it.

*Some