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Peonies and dark chocolate, the price of a modern girl’s heart.
Charming lies and hypnotizing eyes, spark before their lips part.
Commercialized and over advertised, “every kiss begins with K”.
Dinner and a movie, stupid Valentine’s cliche. 
Longing to be delicate Juliet, with innocence cheeks still rosy and red,
Because Hollywood wants us to die for love, to leave a guilty veil hanging overhead. 
Burning desire to visit the Moulin Rouge, to his Christian your own Satine. 
When will this generation realize that love is just a dream?
Prince Charming just a character, whoever he may be, 
Literature has given us false hope by fictionalizing Hannibal and Clarice. 
If love can be bought, then love is not love.
If not materialized through dishonest objects, then what is it made of?
Perhaps I am wrong, and hopeless romantics are right,
And they’ll be forever together with that guy from that night.
No, I can’t prove that love is a myth.
But why wait a lifetime for temporary bliss?
So much can be proven, so much is real, 
So much more than actors pretending to feel.
Friendship waves through an open glass frame. 
Honesty skips gleefully with no one to blame. 
Humor and humanity play games in a park,
And courage decides to go swimming with sharks. 
And yet we choose love, over and above all.
We can’t prove it exists, and yet into it we fall. 
Blame Hollywood falsehoods and commercialized thought,
Because, perhaps, is it possible, that true love has been lost?

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