i don't like love songs.
They fill you with the joy of others,
often serving only to remind
     they do not apply to you.
And all the banter and clever friendships
stay seated while you go home.
Not to say they've no meaning,
but the pulse is still slow,
and all the dreams dreamt
wind down till they creep by,
and, reading the fine print,
you see that it really was what
it seemed at first glance,
and nothing more.