*Not my words
I haven’t written a poem about desire in a while. Mostly because the way I think of romantic relationships has changed in the past few years.
I am not a huge fan of panpanani poems of longing. I mean, what is the point of all this longing, that is never ever fulfilled? Stories of unrequited love have dominated pop culture for so long, that we almost forget that love doesn’t have to be difficult. If it is, then it’s really rather pointless.
Love, to me, should ideally exist between mental equals. It should hold some sort of balance, like an infinity symbol (minus the negative connotations associated with its ouroboros avatar), or a yin/yang. It should be an exchange of ideas, of inspiration, of contentment, of stimulating conversations.
Passion and Peace. Coexisting.
That is how I envision love.
Although, in my opinion, any healthy relationship should follow this model. Otherwise, what is the point?