Of love

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I could paint you a rainbow sky with only my words but I know that you won't listen

The days have come and gone when imagination was reigning and now love poems are being written 

There's nothing wrong with writing about love; it's relatable and true

But there is more to life than broken hearts and feeling down and blue

 

I could tell you of the places I've been- put my memories on my sleeve

But you'd ignore them and forget them because these days we are naive

We spend so much time on love stories and tales that we forget about life

Instead of tales of summer and birdsong, we abuse our hearts with a knife

 

I could draw you a picture of who I am, who I was and who I will be

But you won't understand unless I mention the people who have loved me 

Our lives have become a compilation of the loves and lovers we've had

And if you've had none or they're not on your mind, you're not allowed to be sad

 

I could sing you a song of things come and gone, of people I've loved and lost
But unless they left me for another person, it's not worth the emotional cost
Poems about death come second to cheating, as well as abuse and neglect
But isn't death the worst of them all? Because you can never reconnect

 

I can tell you now that this poem won't be read as much as the one before it

Because regardless of skill or anything else, if it's not about love, they'll ignore it

So now I propose that we make a stand, start writing about something new

Because love's always there and it's always relateable but there are other things in life too






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