Prompt 2: an anti-love poem.
No longer beautiful,
no longer young –
but worse, you’ve become
stupid and scared.
You used to be
a gracious man
as well as
a memorable lover.
No more long hair
no more poetry
no more original thought
and no more daring.
Now you are
permanently middle-aged
and ordinary, like everyone.
No more fire.
If you hadn’t
got back in touch
you’d always have been
a question mark.
(Sigh!) I could wish
for ignorant bliss
rather than this burlesque
of my romantic memories.
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