Pretentious Ramblings #3

I could write about the concept of love all day but then you’d just be reading incoherent poetic lexicon excursion – idyllic melodrama that results in nugatory writing. How generic.

Never the less, I was raised on fairy tales and socialised into the thought process that love conquers all and as the teenage generation lives for red hearts and passionate pieces of literature, it seems to be a topic I cannot avoid. So, I will explore it, share with you my opinions, views and vaguely paragraphs of experience.

Where to start…

There is a lot to cover when it comes to love, both generally and personally

*please note that the above sentence was entirely scribbled out and almost unreadable*

I suppose there is only one way I can peer upon the subject of love and that is from a personal perspective as that is the only one i’m close to understanding.

As a young girl, no one ever warned me of boys who smell like smoke, with glittering eyes and voices that sound like silver or that they would be the backbone of my tear soaked pillow, bruised soul and bleeding heart. No one ever told me that the most addictive drugs had teeth and a pulse, no substance would have the same effect.

All the fairy tales tell you that once you find a prince then all your problems will fade into the background but they fail to mention that the same prince who saved you from your dragon guarded castle might spend his nights with another ditzy damsel, whispering sweet nothings in her ear whilst the thought of you slips his mind. The storybooks don’t tell you of the possibility that once he’s awoken you with true loves kiss, he may decide he doesn’t like the taste of your lips. And so they leave, abandoning you as you choke down cheap vodka in a futile attempt to forget his name.

Which one burns more?

But not all princesses are pure for no one warns the boys of us, either. No one prepares them for the girl with ink blot pupils and locks of vanilla, skin that burns scolds like fire when curiously caressed. No one let them know about the sharp tongue she possesses, slicing through sentences like a sword striking butter. Nothing ever told them that she can build them up and tear them down in a handful of fatal spews. Everyone is exposed to the joys of love but the crippling pain of heartbreak is rarely breathed in the same storybooks.

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