Poem: I Will Not Write About Love – 18/05/21

I will not write about love
for I am not in it –
surely, yes, I have
experienced it,

but as though an introductory,
sweeping strum of a harp,
I won’t allow myself to fall
into a moment,
until it is right to do so;

I’m like an anacrusis awaiting that
conductor’s sign,
the downbeat for the melody to start.

Tiresome, yes?
Am I waiting, awaiting?
Will time cause me to fall apart? –

I’m not yielding to an urge,
I am not capitulating,
I have no requirements to search for affection,
why put myself in the way of
judgement and expectations?
Dejection, rejection?
No, I do not fear these,
but for some,
they’re surely breaking the ability
for true connections,
halting their ability to reach out
with ease.

Here, I sit on the fence,
staring down,
undecided yet,
and I know I won’t allow myself
to fall,
until it is right to do so again,

I don’t need the sweetness of
words from either a woman or a man,
don’t need the positive growth that
an alliance could provide, would or can,

I am loving my life the way it is,
I won’t be swayed by society’s requirements
that I must couple up to be.

Perpetually existing,
do they think I have no end in sight?
While I live and I learn,
do they think my early evenings translate to
quiet depressive nights?
That being single means bunkering down
unsatisfied, until the morning light,
where I can receive my endorphins through
pounding the pavement,
where satisfaction and happiness
are experienced again,
they are within grasp,
within sight.

I don’t need love to be whole,
don’t need it to feel ‘right’,
I can exist by myself,
being independent is no longer a plight,

to be alone can be bliss,
I’ll take the peaceful solitude
as it is,
and so I’ll continue to grow,
and fastidiously enjoy all that life brings.  

© 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

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