We are seduced by songs and <br />‘happily ever after’ scrolling across screens <br />in the movie reels of <br />our secret fantasies, both fed by lies <br />falling from the remnants of fairy tales <br />and bedtime lullabies. <br /> <br />Poets wax it, <br />and under the full moon, it does seem possible— <br />if rushed in our eagerness to fall, but to fall safely. <br />(But the wise among us know, there is no such fling) . <br />In the haze, we tell ourselves release is renewal, <br />that this first blush and fresh bloom is truth. <br />But— <br />by light of day it wanes. <br /> <br />That’s amore. <br /> <br />Despite our schooling, our independence, our <br />“you go girl” and “single is sexy” bumper stickers, <br />and the thought that we can save ourselves, <br />we still yearn <br /> for what we learned in our youthful <br />diet of Disney, <br />dodging disappointment, confusion, illusion, <br />false hope and cheesy commerciality. <br />(That’s aimed at you, Hallmark, Hollywood) . <br /> <br />Deep in the tender period between wakefulness and sleep, <br />where secrets wishes and passions surge unchecked, <br />what it comes down to is this: <br />a midnight phone call from a friend. <br />The barely cracked open door to her <br />heart is already full of palpable pain. <br />She spills, softly. Her voice cracks, <br />and your heart does with her. <br />You gather her anger, confusion, and hurt as your own, <br />speaking into the sudden silence and infusing it with <br />support. <br />You return countless favors <br />with few words and a sympathetic ear. <br /> <br />And finally, you decide that if this is all there is of love, <br />it is enough*. But more importantly, it is real. <br />It is here. <br />It is now. <br />And it, unlike illusions, will last. <br /> <br /> <br />*nod to Emily Dickenson<br /><br />Catherine Elaine<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/longer-lasting/
