But you are still on my lonely mind
I am here without you baby
but youre still with me in my dreams............ (3 doors down, here without you...)
I am here without you baby (and baby in this post refers to the lack of romance in my lonely life).. wish it was...Many a times, I wish I had not been so stubborn in life and was more in touch with myself. Many a times I wish I was not level headed with love (or relationships)---well, but then one cannot have all that one wishes, can they?
Why am I wondering about romance? Well I have wanted it all my life, especially from the man that you are with - but then somehow this has always eluded me.. Romance (as men seem to so discerningly percieve ) dosent match my personality! F***k! how is an emotion/desire suppossed to match my personality? what is that suppossed to mean??? Oh yeah, I am hopelessly romantic, and want to be romanced to the lowest shallow beaten track... I want the works- the flowers, the songs that are dedicated, the careless touch of passion when I aint looking, the jealous look when I dance with another man, the bent knee to ask for a dance, the slight longing kiss on my hand... I am tired of this 'so called emancipated/sexually liberated' generation that I belong to - now that romance is dead, emancipated women get-
Discussions on Space compatibility,
Career projections and financial safety
The bent knee replaced by 'lets get drunk and try some crude hip hop'
Jealous has been replaced by 'Oh go right ahead, I understand your need for space'
The longing kiss with 'A sad replica, that has neither passion nor sensitivity- a personification of the perfunctory'........
remember that old diary?
ReplyDeletestored odes to wondrous moments?
it faced unrelenting rains one day
tucked, as usual in the back pocket
of my old jeans, now rattier than ever
as I found my way to shelter
through a sudden unlooked for storm
it became a soggy mess
I guess it'll dry by the by
but I can't see it living again
it's weird that I
still remember those times
though in faded sepia tones
the colours, scents, waiting heartbeats
seem so dessicated
by the passage of unforgiving time
like those flowers you used to tuck
into my old books
the memories you were hoarding for me
against a lonely day
which have all turned to puffs of dust
when I meander back to those pages
I sneeze....
Life is rather funny that way - the way that the longings of the heart of a year, when it comes real, arent what the heart really wanted in the first place. Suddenly there is talk of space, career and everything else - including that hopeless romantic, are nowhere to be found. Wish i had found her. Perhaps too early, perhaps too late i am to this game, that i dont even want to play :)
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