The time of new love

This is the time of new love
Of which there is a wish to get rid,
sticky as honey, lusciously sweet
Less painful, but more doubtful

Fraught with disappointments, but then again tempting
Scattered on several persons,
Not searching for a hand, but searching for a head
not begging for a smile, but ready to demand
With only thought "I want" and never more "I must"
Imitation turning into competition
the support adjoining on hatred and disgust

Absolutely not as earlier
 the love which I still very much try to hold
with the finger-tips,
as sliping away silk fabric,
With a painful memory in every fold,
No sweetness for my lips
bitter was , but attracting as a fruit of pomegranate
Dealing with violence, patient with hate
which is tearing apart from within, but carelessly, without doubts
Getting stronger every day, insatiable
However not giving hope and therefore
become my best nightmare,
my sacral secret, that no one would share,
my religion, my pride and shame
Forcing to repeat the same holy name
eager for humiliation only to be necessary and to have an opportunity to be near, imitation in which there is no pride and envy at all