When Your Card Gets Declined At Therapy | Poetry Collection Part 1 ©

To Be Desired.

Love...

I don't want Love like in the movies.
Where the good girl gets the bad guy or the shy guy opens up to the popular girl.
It all seems too artificial to me, I just know they only last for a school year - to Graduation.

I don't want Love like in music.
Where the verses get more dramatic and hopelessly emotional for a Girl who wouldn't even turn your way.
While unspoken girls faint in the crowd, the one spoken about wouldn't even want to stay.

I don't want Love like in the books.
Where letters and rhymes, declarations and promises never last to persuade the truth.
Where the main character thinks he doesn't stand a chance against his competitors.
Oh, how twisted and cursed these lines made my youth.

I don't want Love like in the 80s,
Where you meet a handsome guy in a bar after roller skating,
And after one night you'd start contemplating whether you'll spend your life with him or look around to continue dating.

I don't want to fall in Love with my friends
Because the fear of falling out and losing them as mine, tied to loose ends
Is a pain I don't want to experience.

I don't like to see Love as this mystical whim,
Something that you look forward to, and something that defines you.
Love and to be loved shouldn't feel like a sin.

No, I don't want Love like in the movies, songs, books and 80s,
Not as fantasies, friends or loose ends.
Perhaps there is not an explanation
Of what I want, it depends.

Oh, if I were to describe in many letters and scenes, pictures and rhymes
What love I want...

I want someone to be stolen of their breath,
For perhaps the first in their life;
to stop in their tracks and to look back at me for a second time,
For it to sound like the part of Champagne Coast everyone talks about.
When our eyes lock and the sound of our heartbeats could possibly be as loud.
I want their thoughts to be a mess.
Presumably, I want to meet a stranger and see from there.
Until the lines from "Let's just meet up" blur to "No, you hang up", to "I know a place where."

I don't want to ask for love because it seems like I'm demanding it,
But just because brevity might be the soul of wit,
I don't know how much time I can spend in loneliness,
Until it is either my time to accept this fact or to confess.

I can love but to be loved can differ,
Like emotions spilling from my heart in a river to the people I admire.

I don't mind being single but sometimes I'd like to imagine what it's like
to be
desired.