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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=471459" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Pseudo-Romanticism</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">If lips shall lock, <br>hands be bolted, <br>should eyes be closed? <br>Should souls be soused<br>in ice, in fire, in electric shivers? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The scintillating intermingling<br>would linger deep<br>etched to never cease<br>like how poetries seal<br>the bashful emotions, <br>the reticent desires, <br>and the feral suffering</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Teach me how<br>to lull your tremors; <br>what scull your waves<br>and funnels your vertigo? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Teach me how<br>to paint your bliss<br>and erode your malaise<br>for I know nothing<br>but the honesty in<br>entangling strings, <br>and eloquent attraction </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Teach me how to pry<br>behind your perfumes<br>and the buds of your<br>daffodils and carnations</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The mellifluous quartz<br>would recognize my weight<br>if I can carry you<br>as I trespass shadows, <br>chase vicissitude and<br>molest limitations</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But you have to teach me -<br>Instill knowledge in my<br>deterred incarceration<br>if knowledge is important<br>in romanticism</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or perhaps<br>all you need is <br>to unfurl a face, <br>your empty hands, <br>your crimson lips<br>that are devised beautifully<br>to sing of poetries -<br>of forthright audacity<br>in bearing fragile petals</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Reveal the mirrors<br>of your somnolent eyes<br>and cure my myopia<br>by reflecting my scars<br>Break me gently<br>but do not go gentle<br>in fixing my wreck<br>as you infest me<br>with hope, again<br>over and over until<br>I have nothing more</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But do not unleash me from<br>my broken tethers<br>because they are the vestiges<br>Of what I used to call love<br>now in a ludicrous visage<br>are these tassels <br>where you should start <br>to weave and resent</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The more I speak<br>the more I descry<br>how ignorant I am, <br>how fastidious, how stiff, <br>about romanticism<br>because love<br>was my painted malady, <br>my broken fix</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And with all my <br>broken bones<br>and haunted places<br>compassion and sympathy<br>would never cure<br>my spurious charades<br>I need my fix<br>that keeps me broken<br>and it's not even<br>a simple romanticism.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Norman+Santos">Norman Santos</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=471459" data-title="Pseudo-Romanticism de Norman Santos" data-description="If lips shall lock, 
hands be bolted, 
should eyes be closed? 
Should souls be soused
in ice, in fire, in electric shivers? 

The scintillating intermingling
would linger deep
etched to never cease
like how poetries seal
the bashful emotions, 
the..."></div>
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