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.