Poetry Olivia Black 2014 Apathy of the Unloved We want to close every storybook romance, Roll our eyes at every languid summer night spent underneath a blanket of stars, Snicker at every sappy proclamation of love, handwritten note or two hands enlaced together. We want to call it trite and improbable as we bask in the sun of our own maturity. We are well above these childlike beings Who carve their initials in the sturdy bark of a maple tree for some attempt at preservation of a love we know will never last. We cover our envy with disdain, choose to see with a critical eye to conceal the true longing and wistfulness underneath. We swear oďŹ€ perfect moments, butterďŹ‚y kisses, long-awaited embraces and looks of adoration. We keep our distance away from the star-crossed lovers in their pixie dust paradise grateful for the pane of glass that separates us from them. Until it vanishes, as if by magic. And we are the new targets for the nonbelievers who stay convinced the glass will never break
Genres Olivia Black 2014 A Permanent Past, An Indelible Now We canâ€™t let the present permeate into our past let its colors run onto the careful strokes of a languid landscape, a poignant portrait. We must learn to regard them as separate entities. For if not, much joy, love and beauty will be overlooked or replaced with whatever pain, sadness, or hurt can be obtained from the seemingly indelible now. They will seep their way in and cause ruin to the paintings we must leave untouched.