Wednesday, November 19, 2008

fiction.

It's not that I don't believe that love exists,
because I do.
I just don't believe that idealistic, impractical, life altering,
enchanted, fairytale love exists.
Except, it's the only love I want.
It's the love I need.
How crazy is that?
My heart wants the kind of love
only found at blockbuster.
The funny thing is, I know I can't have it, and yet,
it consumes my mind.
It's what I keep waiting for.
Is it the certainty of its fiction,
that is, in fact, its appeal?
Can I expect what I know will never come?
And when I never witness this kind of love..
Would my lonesome disappointment
be justified?

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