The Divine Death of Romance

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Charles Trénet “La Mer”

Romance is dead
Long live romanticism
Viewed by the skeptics as sheer masochism
Taking to saddle, we straddle the schism
Falling either side of the divide

Addled minds scramble to shorelines of indecision
Shackled by uncertainty
Incurring made provisions
Bound by their own lifeboat disposition
In derison
They abandon sinking ship in risen tides

For every heart and flower
There’s an acid shower looming
A dozen red roses decomposing in the lonely throes of ruin
Seemed to be a shoo-in
But alas we’re only human

Some of us are passengers
While others deemed ambassadors for grooming
Use it up and wear it out
Dare not declare the whereabouts
For all signs point to nowhere fast or thereabouts

Suddenly, we’re hunting for a needle in a haystack
Unaware of all potential suitors resolute in need for payback
Shouldering the baggage in the luggage hold since way back
Love deemed out of favour like the eight track

Smouldering like smokestacks
As we soldier on regardless
Fearing unprovoked acts amidst territory chartless
Closing ranks when venturing through badlands of the heartless
Pocket watches weather worn and tarnished

Romance is dead
Long live romanticism
Seems to be most fitting owed to splitting decision
Taking to saddle, we straddle the schism
Falling either side of the divide

Too many skimps simply playing for pride
Love is a game to them
Seek and go hide
Scouting for weakness and playing for time
All in the name of creative mystique

Never really been au fait with cynicism
Thus, I wear my beating bloody heart upon my sleeve
Recall each occasion I have felt unique persuasion
Know well of the pain felt when it leaves

There was once a time when I believed I’d never love again
Still leapt blindly when push finally came back to shove again
Doubts crept in manner no less than untimely
Tears wept mean nothing unless expressed kindly
Laid myself bare to the bones and below
Hope afloat sweet proposal would find me

Timing is crucial
Confiding that truthful
Finding the part of us vibrant and youthful
Rueful eyes narrow
Declining approval
Taking each smile to tribunal

Romance is dead
Long live romanticism
Something exclusive
Bereft of refusal
Taking to saddle, I straddle the schism
To chorus of glorious approval

Remember this verse the next time you’re love struck and feel queasy
Do so unconditionally
And maybe it can really be that easy

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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