I just listened to a brilliant song. The images in the poetry were beautiful, crisp and visual. The emotion was perfectly conveyed. The singing sounded heartfelt and genuine. It was about a guy who had experienced young love, puppy love, they used to call it, and then she kicked him to the curb and he has given up on love and life because of how bad it hurt. That’s my take on it. If I missed, well, write a comment to tell me how wrong I got it.
I’m old. That’s to say I’m supposed to be mature in my responses to the shit life hands me. But that doesn’t mean I’m dead and I don’t feel hopelessness. It doesn’t mean the grief in the song didn’t resonate, on the outer layers.
I’m married. That’s to say I’m supposed to be (relatively) secure in my relationship. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel the sting of rejection, or feel jealous because her life is complicated and doesn’t revolve around me.
So I feel another poem coming on. It’ll be the older, wiser response to the human feelings in relationships that go places we don’t want them to go. It’ll be angry. It’ll be bitter. Some people will probably hate it. But it’ll be different. Maybe the kids will learn to stop killing themselves, or hurting themselves, over puppy love, if they read it. If you hate it, let it die here. If it’s worth anything, send it to a suicidal kid out there who’s given up on living their own life because of someone else’s choices.
Here’s the younger, less moderated response that I heard:
I feel a poem coming on, coming soon to a blog near you.