The Romantic Illusion
If I would task you to write me a song,
Or quote me a rhyme, it would be torture,
Because you are a man with no flowery words,
No bouquets in hand,
No fumbling words.
A man who is'nt going to climb to the rooftop ,
And scream to the moon about how much he loves me,
With no romantic gestures to speak of,
A man who knows not what to do with a crying woman,
A man whose sarcasm is like a rapier.
You are also the man whose calloused hands,
Knit my soul back together,
With the gentlest of strokes,
When you found me broken and torn asunder by the hands of another,
Another who knew how to string together pretty words
Another who whispered words of love unashamedly,
While secretly caressing the knife behind his back,
Waiting to tear me to ribbons,
While I was busy holding his hand ,
In awe of his lyric,
And you with your big rough hands,
Who would walk through fire for me,
And claim no bounty,
Are the reality over the imagined,
So I would choose you in every lifetime.
by vidya