literature

This Is Not A Love Song

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Anarkhos's avatar
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Literature Text

A boy sits on a trampoline in July,
and tells a girl who isn't his girlfriend that he loves her.
She rebuffs him, and he goes home,
and tell his girlfriend that he loves her.
They have sex,
and it is cold hearted and empty.

Later on that week,
a girl tells a boy she just wants to be loved,
just wants to be loved, by anyone at all,
and he fucks her,
and his brother tries to get her put in prison.
She never meant it, never meant for that to happen at all.

Somewhere in an apartment above the room where she sits,
a boy is watching a woman roll up her stockings.  
He is overwhelmed with desire for her,
and cannot move, or speak, and she looks at him.
And she knows his mind.

And in a dark suburban house on the same night
that the woman takes the boy and shows him life,
a girl is looking out of the window of the smallest bedroom.
She is crying, softly, softly,
never making a sound,
and there are letters in her hand.  
She is making her choice.

And five hundred miles away,
a boy is sleeping,
without a care in the world,
and he doesn't understand a thing.  
All the things I heard this week.


I think you only get true love in books. Prove me wrong?

edit: 20-05-10, cut out a verse that was basically superfluous.
© 2009 - 2024 Anarkhos
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sunshinegypsy's avatar
The last two just make the perfect ending. I love this one, I really do. And who really knows what true love is?