I can’t write love poems like I used to
With youthful ignorant fantasy
The knight on a bone white steed
Riding to rescue my dear damsel
Sweet kiss upon listless lips
Something stolen nothing given
The illusion of romance has been ripped
Something taken in repose
Is not a trait forthcoming
To force oneself on the unresponsive
Because you are owed
Is not the imagery I had imagined
It may have been youthful ignorance
And thought about in innocence
Fantasized with no feelings of malice
But as I age
The field of view becomes clearer
The muslin cloth has been torn
Ragged edges wafting to show things clearer
I cry for the boy I was
For the love struck romantic
Because he could not view the full picture
The world beyond his adolescents
The cruelty and disgust of that scene
The unresponsive princess
Deep in sleeps protection
To be set upon by entitlement
And owned for those days after
Because what is a woman
But someone to be rescued
I still weep for those boys and girls
Who in their innocence
Fell in love with an abusive ideology
Indoctrinated to take and to be submissive
I can’t write love poems like I used to
I am no longer that young boy
Ignorant in his innocence.
YOU ARE READING
Ink & Tears
PoetryThis is a collection of poems that I have written about my struggles with depression, anxiety, love, nature, and the darker aspect of the world that seems to always hammer on my heart. I hope this reaches some of you.
