Dear romance, you wet stinky thing you.
I see you now and again
walking down the street following a gaggle of girls.
Their faces
Shiny with stories of boys, boys who will endure you for the sake of 2nd base.
In turn you are followed.
Followed by wistful sighs, aged people, young enough to remember, but too worn to feel your spark.
Oh, dearest romance,
I knew you once
When I gave you up through a pen,
a fearless handwritten love note stuffed with anxiety into a locker.
There was no sleepover that ended where I didn't feel exuberant in your possibilities.
But, my dear old friend
You have let yourself go
You are lost in your hallmark bygone era, a drone to some great marketing machine
Your impossible implications are dated and give way to dangerous expectations.
I implore you, Romance, let go of your ridged standards
Flowers? Chocolates? When has a presentation of affection ever been so limited?
Yes, you have sold out
And now, with your pockets full and that yacht all gassed up
You leave us, your adoring friends, adrift in an ocean of pretexts and false ideology