Cynical

I was told a lot about lust

 

That I’d taste my lover on my lips

As I lay there in my lonely bed at night

I said I’d wipe the flavor from my mouth

Love is bitter, dry, and trite

 

I was told a lot about grace

 

That I’d take his word as Gospel truth

And let my faith show me the way

I said that I don’t believe in God

Love is fear, and pain, and Judgment Day

 

I was told a lot about honor

 

That he’d go to battle for my love

And take the field in one great stride

I said that I’m a pacifist

Love is war, and blood, and genocide

 

I was told a lot about passion

 

That he’d make me feel all new things

And in his arms I’d wait

I said that I believe in reason

Love is sadness, suffering, and hate

 

I said a lot about lust

 

But never knew that he’d taste like mint and heat

Or that his fingers would leave traces in my skin

I never knew that I would crave his mouth

Love is stolen kisses and whispered sins

 

I said a lot about grace

 

But never knew that he’d have eyes like angels

And that I’d see saints in his damned grin

I never knew that someone could be so holy

Love is twinkling trees and quiet within

 

I said a lot about honor

 

But never knew he’d ask politely for my love

Or hold me close and overstep these walls

I never knew I’d hand it over with my heart

Love is drunken nights and turn signals

 

I said a lot about passion

 

But never knew that those little old feelings

Would somehow become brighter, better, true

I never knew that it would all make sense

Love is us, and me, and you

This poem is about: 
Me

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