My Stories Of You (chapter four)

Recycled feelings are not enough for me
to be brave and bold
as the hero that lit your fire and left.
In my bed there's no one I dare to put,
no one but you,
but I can't tell you this
for it would make me weak
and you still want a hero
a white horse, a golden armour
a beautiful and empty shell, Adonis of hypocrisy
so tippical for the modern man.
I'm not that,
I'm old, but not the way you want me to be.
I'm old because I still belive in true love,
the reason I'm still here.

poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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