Once upon a time,
I told someone this critical line:
“If romance were a god,
I’d probably be agnostic.
I’d like to believe in it,
‘though it seems only happening to others,
while it feels like some foreign world to me
and I’m an alien stranded here.”
Not even such words.
It’s just the cold,
when stoicism slowly takes over.
I know some friends are still concerned,
which I’ve truly appreciated.
One of these days,
I’d rather see living proof,
not (just) some empty words
played on repeat
like a broken record
even when it’s digitally-remastered.
Maybe romance won’t feel like a living myth,
if love stops being such a mean joke to me,
so that I can take it more seriously.