Talk About Love

Poem By Paige Nielsen

There's no way to be ready
for what life will give you.
They say love is blind,
but it has 20/20,
and it'll make you bleed.
Sex and blood; smoke and mirrors;
one gigantic mirage,
causing bewitched dreams and shrink appointments.
It'll hurt everyone with no discrimination:
geeks and goths and prom queens.
Making the first shoot up the school,
the second die on their bathroom floor,
and leaving the third pregnant, disgraced, alone.
It's relentless
scratching at your window, tapping at your door.
You can't resist; it'll wear you down.
A fistful of ammunition won't stave it off.
Epic or shorter than a sunset,
glimmering in its ethereality.
Sweet as candy or sharp as needles,
maybe both.
A lullaby to sleep or an anthem to awaken,
perilous lies and big fat weddings-
stupid 'bridezillas'.
No wonder half of all marriages end in divorce.
My parents, your parents, everybody.
Manic invasions into your heart,
butterflies in your stomach,
clouds in your mind.
How do we dare risk it?

Comments about Talk About Love

Ah, the cynicism, I revel in it. My commendations, Paige.
It's very deep, dramatic and realistic, the exemples are touching. You catch the reader. Great ending.
uv expressed it very well! amazing!
'one gigantic mirage, causing bewitched dreams and shrink appointments. It'll hurt everyone with no discrimination: geeks and goths and prom queens. Making the first shoot up the school, the second die on their bathroom floor, and leaving the third pregnant, disgraced, alone. It's relentless scratching at your window, tapping at your door.' You need to write books. Nuff said. A page belongs in a book, Paige belongs in the world.
Okay...I take that back. This one is my favorite. Very insightful and very true. I LOVE LOVE LOVE this one. Wow. It put a smile on my face, odd but I love the insight. Good job!


Rating Card

5,0 out of 5
1 total ratings

Other poems of NIELSEN

Best Friends Forever?

Forgive of me my poison pen
Venomous and bitter
You and I now poison friends
So much to consider

You'Re Dead

I went to your funeral
dressed in my favorite pair of jeans.
The mourners whispered sharply, even though
I dyed them to make them extra black.

Modernist Perspective

The fear is absolute:
faces pale as the milk of death,
the inverse of the milk of human kindness.
A haunting sorrow binds the wounds,

A Question About Myself

Life bites like a vampire bat,
and changeling is my middle name.
The old blind man plays the blues,
shades of cerulean, sky, navy, and charcoal.

Addictive And Titillating

I am a coffeemaker.
Thoughts bubble and percolate,
steam pours from my ears.
Constantly caffeinated, a little fragile,

Fourth Period

Math class boredom enumerates;
arc angles, release me.
Oh my, I’m mistaken!
This secret tryst of x, i, and pi