Undoubtedly, the notion of
Men blatantly stating
Sexual intention
Epitomized ridiculousness, but
For some reason,
They found it
Endearing.
I
(and many other men, I’d wager)
Learned otherwise—
Emotions and Sensitivity
Opened the locks of
Feminine love
And the endless sales of
Sappy R&B and
Chick Flicks,
Supported what I
(we)
Asserted.
Never mind the cruel irony of
Men entrenched in the
“Treat ‘em like dirt” doctrine
Had more wannabe models and angels
Than those white horse riding crooners.
Still, I believed in
Idealistic tenets of
Hollywood films and
Bad advice they
Subjected me to.
Viewing it from other eye,
Hearing with realistic ears,
I learned
Women hate the Hallmark-esque lines
From budding Shakespeares,
Foaming for the taboos of verbal and erotic
Domination.
I’m not angry,
Just confused,
Why no one revealed
The modern woman’s truth
Mystifies me
... Though I wonder if this
“Tooth-fairy-isn’t-real,
Everyone-you-know-and-love-will-die-eventually-truth,”
Was something I could handle.
Now I realize
Maybe,
Just maybe,
Instead of comparing women to
Summer’s days,
I might have more success using,
“Hello,
My name’s Morgan,
And I
Want to
Fuck you”
As my next
Pickup line.
I just wonder if I’ve prepared myself
For what happens
After.
YOU ARE READING
Romantically Incorrect
PoetryBorn, raised, and currently living in Detroit, Michigan, Morgan Coby is a combination of many different things around him: the gritty realities of the city where he dwells, and the wondrous idealism from the fictional worlds of stories, cartoons, an...
