Tell young girls
The truth about love.
How it is almost always lost.
Almost never enough…
That it is often just that. almost.

And “almost” is a poison
Will taste good on the tongue
But bitter in the throat.
Will sit in your stomach like question.
will never give an answer for the tears
It makes of you.

Tell them of the tears.
How the tears are happily ever after’s
They are prince charming’s and glass slippers.
They are romance novels and first kisses...
Running away from us.
Leaving us with our wounds and wonder.
Force-feeding us reality in its heavy muck.

Prepare them for reality.
There is beauty somewhere in the pain.
For we are a pained people – us humans
a crumbling city conquered by our wants
A wanted mob fiending for the delusion of love
that love is perfect. enough.
no matter what we smile
through in the
daytime.
none can escape
The late night why’s.
None can escape the irrelevance of
our lies.
Nor the cold pillow
Nor the moment of clarity
In our beds
Where not even touch
Comes close to enough.