In my ode to my neglection of love,
I will state my many attempts and failures to prove my theory of a declining quality of the doctrine based upon the false, deficient conceptions and broadened, generalized, incompetent idealizations.
My ode to my neglection of love will be a declaration of exile until this inept perception of love is reinstated as an idea highly individualized as an intimate interpretation of infatuation where expression holds meaning, meaning it is incapable of duplication.
This degree of convenient feelings has been glamorized into a fashion and has deminished the value of the terms Love, Lover, Lovely, and Loving.
In todays time, reputable romantics are as quantifiable as needles in haystacks and healthy heart attacks.
In my ode to my neglection of love,
I will address the calamity of convenient companionships that so candidly contradict the current, subpar specifications of love suggesting a strong absence of substantial qualities.
These immature perceptions of "love" have provoked my pessimistic promises to never proceed with such perverse practices.
"I love you" has become a powerful, paradoxical phrase and only takes away from what it used to mean.
In my ode to my neglection of love,
I will acknowledge the absence of true chemistry.
This degree of convenient feelings has been compromised into a fashion, deminishing the value of the terms Love, Lover, Lovely, and Loving-revealing the arrogance of the one who Loved.
This is not an ode but rather a rough draft. The final will be carved in stone- or rather within the heart of the woman crafted from my rib bone.
I wrote a piece sometime ago talking about why I stopped writing about love. A type of poem that is dedicated to or praises a certain subject is called an Ode. Many writers write odes about a certain love or feeling from love, but fuck that. I've been neglecting love because there was once a time where it was truly valuable but now, love just seems to get tossed around with no discretion. I hate that. But whatever. I'm the writer and I want you to feel my perspective.
By the way, God crafted Eve out of Adam's rib thus the metaphor. If you want me to explain this piece more in depth, just holla at me. Don't want ya'll to be like:
I will state my many attempts and failures to prove my theory of a declining quality of the doctrine based upon the false, deficient conceptions and broadened, generalized, incompetent idealizations.
My ode to my neglection of love will be a declaration of exile until this inept perception of love is reinstated as an idea highly individualized as an intimate interpretation of infatuation where expression holds meaning, meaning it is incapable of duplication.
This degree of convenient feelings has been glamorized into a fashion and has deminished the value of the terms Love, Lover, Lovely, and Loving.
In todays time, reputable romantics are as quantifiable as needles in haystacks and healthy heart attacks.
In my ode to my neglection of love,
I will address the calamity of convenient companionships that so candidly contradict the current, subpar specifications of love suggesting a strong absence of substantial qualities.
These immature perceptions of "love" have provoked my pessimistic promises to never proceed with such perverse practices.
"I love you" has become a powerful, paradoxical phrase and only takes away from what it used to mean.
In my ode to my neglection of love,
I will acknowledge the absence of true chemistry.
This degree of convenient feelings has been compromised into a fashion, deminishing the value of the terms Love, Lover, Lovely, and Loving-revealing the arrogance of the one who Loved.
This is not an ode but rather a rough draft. The final will be carved in stone- or rather within the heart of the woman crafted from my rib bone.
I wrote a piece sometime ago talking about why I stopped writing about love. A type of poem that is dedicated to or praises a certain subject is called an Ode. Many writers write odes about a certain love or feeling from love, but fuck that. I've been neglecting love because there was once a time where it was truly valuable but now, love just seems to get tossed around with no discretion. I hate that. But whatever. I'm the writer and I want you to feel my perspective.
By the way, God crafted Eve out of Adam's rib thus the metaphor. If you want me to explain this piece more in depth, just holla at me. Don't want ya'll to be like:
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