Fantasies and utopias
Long lost love abound.
True requisites of one's mind,
binded on to pages allowed
love so formal, pure, and clean.
Readings of lovers minds
eyes that shine and gleam.
Loss for words
adoring el amor
Does this exists?
Fantasy love form?
I can't feel a different kiss
as much as fiction can.
Certain looks can't throw me off
to see latent demands
I can't become flushed
when my love confesses his.
I can't see through his actions,
Knowing what I'll miss.
I want to sing aloud
in chorus harmony.
With his base
and my soprano
in beautiful melody...
sadly, life is not a story.
Love is not fiction.
So bland I feel it is
I want to scream my maledictions!
I want to say one day
Happily ever after.
So is it true love,
or a fantasy that I run after?