Love comes in spurts

Weeks pass, the seasons change and spring is there:
She has a dress that she won't wear again;
Morning's filled with light; she's unaware
The dress was red as was the sense of pain;
The swallows and the swifts will soon return
And she will fall in love head over heels;
The winter grief will end, and she will learn
That lust unites with love when his need spills
Into her hole with teeth, between those lips,
That may be red with lipstick or with blood;
A mushroom in risotto gently slips
Down her throat, but his meat tastes rather good;
And, if her teeth serrate; and if love hurts,
It won't be just his love that comes in spurts.