I want to write, no, I need to write but I cant write when my lifes wrong. I long to write about love songs and what there made of. The people there made for. Moreover I want to perpetuate passion and the pleasure it brings. I want my words to sing not to sting my face with tear traces. No one cares to hear about my fears. I want to write about my life, but that would be a short story, lackluster and null of glory. I havent climbed a mountain nor did I bask in the fountain of youth. I look like this because the child in me causes me to be recluse`d. I dont age. Nor do I wage war with my realities. I dont weather any storms. Im safely surrounded by my unencumbered umbrella. Only writing about my narcissistic nature is neither interesting or naturally amusing. I would be abusing my poetic licence. You need to learn patience said the man Ive been patiently waiting to meet. Ten years between us, He is a genius with the world at his feet. He has plenty of time to get it right while all along Ive perfected the art of getting it wrong. But who wants to hear about the near death of love as we know it. I need to write about romantic love and how the romantics show it. I want to write. and as I sit here alone with only my old poems to recite. I ask myself and only friend. Will I ever love again?
Posted on: Mon, 21 Apr 2014 06:09:23 +0000