romance

Where are the Darcys and Rochesters of this world?
Unrealistic dreams of what romance should be, could be,
Are thrust upon us by countless movies, books, and songs.
Unrelenting, they give us a rosy-hued view of what we want,
But what is never likely to be for many, if not all of us.

These perfect male figures reside only in fantasy,
An unattainable dream for women to sigh about,
Only to realize in hopeless moments of reality,
That their poetical idea of perfect romance
Is likely to fall short in the real world.

What is stopping those dreams from becoming reality?
There has to be someone these characters are based upon.
Can they really only be fiction; a flawless projection
Of what some broken female author thought her life, love
Could, or should be in another, fantastical world?

Women waste their lives, throwing away chances
To be happy, not wanting to ‘settle’, in case that Percy Blakeney
Suddenly pops into her life, willing to whisk her away into
A world where all the ideas she’s had shoved upon her
Might actually be possible.

Maybe some women find these ‘flawless’ men.
Even if they do, is it really fair for expectations to be so high?
I have seen many good men just give up because they couldn’t
Be all that women seem to expect of them. Why can’t it be enough
For them to have a man that will care and provide?

We all want the airport scenes, the professions of undying love,
But maybe we need to take down our image of what makes
That perfect romantic lead in our lives, and see that it’s the very
Small, simple things; tiny moments in an average day,
That are the exquisite examples of actual true love.