Romanticism is
Melancholic at best
Always daydreaming
Each one a test
I'm a hopeless optimist,
Some may say.
Tossing petals on a silly rose,
wasting the day.
The idea of love,
So open and free
Thought provoking, mysterious
Until it gets to me.
Then I recall,
Why I prefer being alone.
It's hard to find peace,
In someone else's home.
By home, I mean mind
Two becomes one
You both have to share it
To simply enjoy the sun
Idiosyncrasies,
Start to synchronize
The way we view life
Is seen through one set of eyes
We become a machine,
Two bodies and one brain
A lovely entanglement
Loneliness has been slain.
You passed the test,
And you've set me free,
But only through binding,
The concept of 'you and me'
Romanticism is
Melancholic at best
Until the real thing comes,
And starts a fire in my chest.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 12:33 PM UTC
Romanticism is
Melancholic at best
Always daydreaming
Each one a test
I'm a hopeless optimist,
Some may say.
Tossing petals on a silly rose,
wasting the day.
The idea of love,
So open and free
Thought provoking, mysterious
Until it gets to me.
Then I recall,
Why I prefer being alone.
It's hard to find peace,
In someone else's home.
By home, I mean mind
Two becomes one
You both have to share it
To simply enjoy the sun
Idiosyncrasies,
Start to synchronize
The way we view life
Is seen through one set of eyes
We become a machine,
Two bodies and one brain
A lovely entanglement
Loneliness has been slain.
You passed the test,
And you've set me free,
But only through binding,
The concept of 'you and me'
Romanticism is
Melancholic at best
Until the real thing comes,
And starts a fire in my chest.
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