Poetry

Overturning love-stories

Turns out the love stories were all just two dimensional.

Whether on screen or on the pages of a book

they didn’t stand up to scrutiny

and so when I became more confident and certain of my own rights

to inspect these accounts more closely 

I lifted them up and turned them on their head and they simply

vanished to paper thin lines, insubstantial and easily woven around a finger.

These “love stories” were florid as finger paintings

pleasant as warm milk in the evening before bedtime

and as time made me more aware I started to perceive

that all was never what it seemed in such alluringly sentimental

stories of dashing knights smashing dragons into smithereens

and beautifully ornamented princess’s laying on deathbed’s in

marble cold insentient bliss waiting for the hero’s hot kiss

to wake then up before dreamily riding off into a pale pink sunset

Together. As time passed I began to scoff at these powder puff portrayals-

these limpid ladies and haughty presumptuous dragon slayers.

But– what were love stories if not these fairy-tales?

What were the real love stories

and what were they made up of if not knights and princesses?

I resolved to go out there and find out for myself.

 

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