at what point in your life do you realize the futility of chasing the elusive
acknowledging all your past love stories are tragedies
stillborns, held briefly, remembered daily, for the rest of your life
to meet the paragon that matches your impossible list of requirements
the odds are against you, possible, just highly improbable
to find the unicorn on a merry-go-round of painted, wooden horses
mindlessly, repeating the cycle, searching for the one, in a universe of stars
how many times must you be pulverized in the online emotional meat grinder
craving the unconditional love, acknowledgment, validation of prince charming
to be kissed, caressed, cherished by the bad boy on the harley
romantic love is a dangerous illusion, a mirage in the desert, la fata morgana in your heart