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AuthenticLogic — I want to be able to love
Published: 2006-04-30 21:12:58 +0000 UTC; Views: 133; Favourites: 1; Downloads: 2
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Description
I want to be able to love likeIn those fairy tales in which
After they finally kiss
It’s happily ever after
I want to be able to love like
In those movies in which
Everybody becomes a blur
Except for those two people
And nothing else matters
I want to be able to love like
In those books in which
The author is forced to use
Obscenely large words just to
Describe what can be described
Of the two lovers’ love
But no
For me
There is no happily ever after
Everything else always matters
And the words will never be long enough
But I still want to be able to love
I want to be able to love
I want to hold that one girl
In that way that tells her that
I will never, ever let her go
I want to be able to love
I want to rid myself of the world
If even for just one moment in a kiss
I nor her shall never forget
I want to be able to love
I want to be like those lovers
In those fairy tales, movies and books
I hear and watch and read
But now, I realize
That I am that one fish
Unlike all the others in the sea
The one that there is no match for
Because the love I want
Needs two people to work
And I am the fish, the sock
The shoe, the lover
Without a match
And while everyone else
Enjoys their façade of love
Going to various dances and proms
And in the end, simply “settling”
I will still be here
Wondering if my love
Even exists
Comments: 19
You can disagree, but you will never know unless you find the one you love. Your poem was really beautiful, but I believe your closign the dooors on an amazig oppurtunity
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That's exactly what rejected salesmen say -.^
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Yes, but it's so true (maybe not when they say it though)
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If you do find love, it will be beautiful, because only a beautiful heart could write like this.
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Thanks, but I disagree.
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hello... i just gotta say this is a very nice poem! I really like a lot!...it spoke to me. ^-^
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Thanks. And the idea is to speak...the words speak. Put your ear to your monitor! If that doesn't work, try bashing your head through it 
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lol i due time if i cannot hear no more! ^-^ .... lol me!> 
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This is like the fourth time I have tried to complete the reading of this fantastic poem. Every time I set out to finish it, someone always needs my attention. But now, I have time!!
First I want to comment on the beginning. It is lonely and heart breaking: a truth found in the fiction of fairy tales and romance novels. It is truely capturing!
The entire poem is campturing. It is so interesting how you manage to create a path of character and reader. You lead the character (perhaps voice of the poem is a better way of putting it) through the maze of finding love, and as you do, the reader follows willingly. The path of the fantasy that is almost made true. Then, as if the voice was snapped out of a trace, you pull away from the fantasy to the reality. A fairy tale not made into quite the fairy tale expected. It is sad and realistic at the same time. A good use of metaphor retains the the fairy tale image of the beginning of the poem.
Just a side note: I may be a helpless romantic, but I strongly believe every fish, shoe, sock, lover has a match somewhere. All it takes is time, patience, trial and tribulation to find that match hidden in the haystack. Give it time.
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Remember, though, the more you rustle the haystack the more chance the match will ignite, burning the whole stack to a crisp.
Time is something that is too valuable to give.
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Without rubbing the flint together, sparks cannot ignite, and it takes time to make those sparks fly. Time moves by more quickly when you yourself push it along, at the same time remaining in control of your destiny and fantasies. Time is valuable to the creature, but at the same time, sparks are faluable to the fire.
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Too long I've struck the flint together, but every time I realize that it is a waste of time. My wood is too dried and petrified to light into even a small fire, and the sparks that fly are foolish fallacies. I've tried too hard and the sparks are beginning to burn my eyes. Pushing time along hurts my back, and my load isn't getting any lighter, nor am I getting far enough. Time that is wasted can never be redeemed, so wasting time is unacceptable.
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I too find myself flinching in the flames as every every started burns me a little more. A heart takes time to mend, but it is the sizzle of the embers that mends the fire inside the furnace of love. Time adds pressure to the diaphram, supressing the heart, and furthering the smother of the embers. Yet at the end of the personal stress added to the aging time, there is a burning flame capable of smothering your body with the emotion you long for. It is true time in itself cannot be redeemed, but time in essence is retrievable. It is worth the time of getting burned, true burdening your load, to find the glowing flame that takes you higher.
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Emotion that I long for? Rather, emotion that I have turned my back on. I would be a complete stoic if it weren't for the necessity of having emotions to avoid being committed to an institution. Emotions are a hinderence, and are not worth the burns.
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You turn your back on emotions, because you fear them. They form you, and are only natural to man, that is true, but you cannot be stoic. If you are able to feel so strongly on this matter, you feel strongly about the engulfing flame of passion.
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My fingers and my pen are my vents for emotions. I never allow emotions to erupt into actions. Emotions are merely hinderences from any given goal. Anger, sympathy, sorrow, frustration, love, and all others are simply needless, and something that the human race would progress much further without.
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There cannot be progression in the human race without the emotions of passion, excitement, sympathy, respect, love, anger. Logic plays a major roll, but so does creativity and passion. Driven people make changes, and lost souls find what they have always been searching for when it falls at their feet.
Poets display emotion via the beauty of words strung together to form a language completely their own. Their language is their sharing of emotion, but the boiling furnace of emotion is burning brightly within every soul. The romance respected and garded by poets can be tapped by the one person who is able to reach the soul. Then, that poet can equally share the fire between page and body.
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This was a very sincere poem. I remember feeling like this a lot, like there was no one for me, I guess love is a sickness we all get. Very good poem. I hope you find your missing link.
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