Saturday, December 3, 2011

Disillusioned Romantic

Romantics swing gently through the night
drifting between stars and dancing across the moon
the glide into dawn, kissing, setting with the sun
Hearts that flutter and swear by the night sky,
that brandish their love as swords, and promise hearts
Souls are promised, words and bands of gold are exchanged

What is all this, done in vain?
The snow we stood in, and swore our hearts
is the same snow that melted around us
as our foresworn hearts stained it red
Romantics though we are, what can words promise?
Every romantic says the same thing
a thousand times over. Swearing to give the moon,
to cut down a thousand men to have my heart
but in the end, its promised to a hundred more girls
What makes any other girls different from me?
Why should I believe any one mans promises
than any other? are they not all the same?
They would give the world to a beauty
that they laid their eyes on. But once she's gone
it's onto the next beauty, swearing the self-same
I would cross the seven seas, I would steal the sun
I would be for you all that your heart could desire!
What are these words that a stricken son utters?!
How can I trust such words I've repeated before
in such fervency and honesty, I must admit.
I never spoke untruths when I spake such words
but I feel they've been repeated far too often
by far too many a fool to mean anything at all
I've loved and lost. I've loved ghosts of men that
never actually were. What shadows have I loved!
So were it really love at all? Or weren't it a lie?
This romantic suddenly finds all the solace of love
to be so cold, is love truly still alive and well?

© copyright by Michèle Aimée Lahaie, 2011


Dan said...

Very nice. I hope you're doing well.