Sour Grapes!

I loathe those capable of love
More than those who suspect they spread it.
I’ve heard of fatally contractible diseases known to have a lower a success rate of multiplication
Than the widely popularized act called Love
It’s more like a Donna Karen dress in the department window.
Shiny, fragrant, NEW and most importantly affordable
A season turns and the obsessiveness at purchase is now a just a ripped page out of an old issue.
Call me foolish to think I can avoid it. That the gods will leave me with no choice and I be privileged to live a life with Cupid and his blunt arrows.

I hate those who kiss by moonlight, who kiss by the book, the clock or the calendar.
It’s so passé.
To think that man had moved up the evolutionary chain to walk the planet empowered with facets our forefathers could not boast of
I take the leash only to be bitten by a rabid dog rather than a “ modern” man
That has to be it!!
I’m diseased too, like those sick, pathetic fools
Holding hands, waiting, wanting, Happy… Ignorant
Waiting…. True! Wanting…. Yes! Happy being unable to join palms?
Absolutely…says a lover of sarcasm

I hate Valentine and Aphrodite in their flawless, white robes and flanked by descending
petals
Crazy to pick some random day that Hallmark and Archie’s endorse and celebrate
Romance is dead…Creativity is annihilated and Compromise is settling for lust
The madness prevails like sunshine through a greenhouse, touching every bud
Heating every dew drop that hangs on the edge till it boils with fervor and falls
Pluck my eyes out before I look upon such zombies, mindlessly wandering the lonely planet in search of equally insane counterparts
With Cosmo-dictated qualities
Shame on me for presuming I could stoop to match such desperation
I am better than that. I am better than Love!