Memoirs of a Romantic
Alone in a café in Vienna, I sit pondering the perplexity of
my wasted youth
Lost to love, I was- I am a rather romantic man now dead to
my desires.
I longed for this foolish and ponderous game that has ruled
and ruined my life
Was it all worth it?
The crushed flowers, the hot feel of their slaps on my face,
the slamming doors, the wrecked cars, the shattered windows, the melted
chocolates, the spilled perfume
Was it all worth risking the danger, the excitement of
running down the empty streets
Of Paris dodging the gunfire but still ending with bullet
holes in my breaking heart
Was it all worthy of such passion that I would give that
heart away again or wear it upon the proverbial sleeve of desire for the
company of women
They are kind and cruel and passionate and cold, they are a
perplexity of contradictions
Contractions, retractions, utter change at the drop of my
hat they decide my eternal fate
I am done with love and lust, I am done with effort and
accomplishment
Forever I will find myself alone at table in ideal locations
Like this solitary table in a café in Vienna.
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