WE WRITE WHAT WE KNOW; THE REST IS IMAGINATION

Of love and romance I am scared to write
for I write of things experienced;
I see love’s many forms,
remember from ages past,
my dreams within dreams,
my favourite spectre, romance,
the legends and myths,
the sacrifices, compromises,
endless dance, stumbles,
the affections and affectations,
accents and accentuations,
rare modern day implementations
of love and romance, of
the willingness to put someone forth
as much as oneself — not before, nor after,
matching pace for pace,
hands held and whispers shared —
what know I of love, for I have yet to live it?