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Hopelessly Romantic - 19/09/2000

We spend our lives suffocating in romantic ideals,
struggling in quicksand of our own making.
In the name of romanticism we thrash about
seeking clichéd visions of perfect mates.
The more we struggle the deeper we sink,
pulled under by the gravity of waking
from hopeless, hapless daydreams
of beautiful partners with picture perfect traits.
Left by the wayside are poor unfortunates
that do not measure up with these ideals
those that in our eyes are fatally flawed
plagued with shortcomings and imperfections.
Their meagre hearts and souls are discarded
and ground under our unsympathetic heels,
outcasts through no fault of their own
and supposedly undeserved of our affections.

We celebrate a trite apparition
of love, an immaculate perception
of adoration and its trappings,
an endless hazy summer of mutual desire.
The cold, harsh reality is ignored
where untainted love is a rare exception.
It is a winter of desolation
where obsession plunges into a loveless mire.
This oasis of faultless love is merely a mirage
propagated by the starry-eyed.
We stumble like lost souls in the desert,
frantically searching for salvation
and though some are spared,
many are bereft of such love, dignity
and pride.
Self-condemned to wander like nomads
in needy, unattractive desperation.
 
© Nicholas Vosper 2001