I sound like a jaded lover,
which I promise I'm not.
I'm no lover to begin with.
I fight,
not hug.
Chocolates?
No, thank you.
I want,
Cheap girls, cheap boys, cheap booze.
Romantic dresses, torn at the seams.
Bruised arms, with broken hearts.
Mud pies, and dead roses.
Love voodoo, with loveless literature.
Romantic sentiments, ripped apart.
Hand-holding? Abandoned!
Loving gazes? Shot down!
This is a very unromantic picnic.
To which you are uninvited.
Oh.
A such a hopeless unromantic.
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