Fools in Love

Hang your dreams.



Fairy tales do not preside over the

cold, hard, truth of life
I fancy myself in mirth, adopting
one of the exotic smiles
Exotic smiles, they visit you
only in dreams
In fancies where you stoop down enough
to fantacize the truth

 Once I had heard "do not dwell on dreams and forget to live"
amazed me even as a child,
it was just what we were all excelling in

 Rain drops don't fall from heaven
to give birth to smiles
There is no heart-fluttering
when you meet someone's eyes
Smiles do not tell stories underlying
And every passing day is not a step
guesturing that a majestic future is neigh

 Bury the nonsense,
under a solid, indifferent pit of earth
And stand upon it, stamp your feet
and open your eyes.

 Don't fantasize the reality
for no one ever realized a fantasy.

But then, 


I have a confession to make.
We poets who write beautiful words about love often write alone, 
except for the company of a broken heart.
We know sadness more intimately than we do joy. Our creative candle burns in the dark lonely hours.
We watch others share our romantic words with their lover, and are envious.
We write of soul-mates and enduring love, all the while, our typewriter keys echo loudly in our hollowed-out chest.
Does this make us frauds? 
Perhaps.
Some days I do not know if I believe in "true love".
I do believe in being a loving person though, and I believe in the ideal of romantic love.
I celebrate those who have been so lucky in this life to have found that person who fits them like a puzzle piece: a beloved companion in life's journey.
I am a poet.
A scribe of dreams and desires.
A cynic haunted by hope.
My writing is born of need, and the words that escape my pen sustain me.

~John Mark Green.

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