I’m sorry if I romanticize you
If your skin is made of paper and words
If your eyes are gold and you talk to birds
My glasses frame my face in a rose-colored hue
I’m sorry that you can’t see my view
My world is made up of magic
It’s a tactic to distract from the fact it
Isn’t made up of flowers
How many countless hours have I spent wondering why not
How many days I’ve shed tears over my rotten luck
That my skin wasn’t made of paper too
But the glasses are held onto my face by faith and glue
That you are just like me
Because you
Aren’t made of paper too
As my expectations fly and disaster begins to rise
I romanticize the scenario to the point where I criticize
Everything that doesn’t fit in my eyes
I start to swim in eternal lies
Look in mirrors that distort my true size
For what is smaller than a mouse yet larger than a giant?
Riddles and riddles that make me less compliant
I’ll try and stay silent
Not bother you with my defiant view of reality
Because I think we were all meant to be
More than what we see
Or how we feel
So I’m sorry if I romanticize you
My standards grow tall
My world turns small
But I still think it’s a wonderful view
***
People use different creative outlets to express themselves and their talents. One of the first things my readers should know about me is that I use poetry to express my emotions. And before that, I am extremely emotional. Romanticism has been around for centuries, and it’s an idea we each carry with a different perspective. I have always found myself to be a romantic person, yet my rose-colored glasses have often led me to create false visions and high expectations. While romanticism seems fantastical and wondrous next to the cold, calculated conformity of society, there is an immaturity and hubris that comes with it. Learn to apologize for pain you bring, but never doubt how you see the world.
Alice Griffin Writes 