Love is a mirage,
In reality a desert dry and granulated
An old film, lost in the catacombs of cinema.
Marriage is an idea.
In practice an institution consummated on paper
Baby’s breath and celebratory rice quickly swept away
But then there is me, alone.
There is nothing fake,
Never to taste compassion on my lips
Never to share myself with anyone
To never risk a broken heart
Sacrifices I am not willing to make for love.