Poetry

A Common Lie

I think love is actually a lie– a fable.

Love is a story you tell an innocent girl,

her eyes wide and gleaming with wonder.

You open this big book,

filled with pictures of a beautiful woman

and a dashing young man.

The girl sits up in her bed,

absorbing each word with delight.

Love is a story you tell a young boy,

he blushes and says “No way!”

You tell him he can have many loves,

like fishing in a pond–

endless bait–endless decisions–endless choices!

There is no set aspiration for him,

only a pattern of faceless faces and cold hearts.

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3 thoughts on “A Common Lie”

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