What happened to the romance, the lovers of the world?

The Shakespeares and Lord Byrons, bleeding undying love into immortal verse?

When did hopes and expectations become taboo?

Now we fuck in combat boots, prepared for war or retreat,

"Leave your lights on, babe"..if you don't measure up,

my escape plan's in place.

I saw Aphrodite at a pawn shop.

The only heart she had was the tattoo she wore on the side of her shaved skull.

She was used up and worn down,

trading her famed Girdle for a Stratocaster guitar.

"Love's not what it used to be", she said,

"they stopped making the pure stuff years ago.

Now all we have is a bunch of cheap, souvenir bullshit.

I'll take music over ghosts any day."

Remember to love who you are;

remember to kiss your fingertips

and seek out your favorite star.

Remember to accept your crazy style; like new dresses with old combat boots. Remember to embrace your inner child and get unique tattoos. Use your favorite ballpoint pen to write secret codes across your skin. Memorize the light in your smile and dance in the middle of a crowded street; draw a skull and put roses for the eyes and wear rings on your feet.

You are stronger than Hercules and more beautiful than Aphrodite;

you are a goddess among this world with an eye that says, "bite me."

Remember that your far beyond another face; you're different and you make a difference, and you will never be replaced.

Blinding Light

Glares and disorientates

Voices scream

Demanding

But muffled

Unfollowed

Banging

Stomping

Combat boots

Drums on the ground

Tattoos of blood and metal

Memories leaking from skull

There is no beauty

No Venus or Aphrodite

This is Hades land

No one leaves here

He lies awake in bed,

breathing slowly.

I only smile at him

with sincere.

"Read me a book, dear."

My fingers pick a book.

Aphrodite.

"Sure." He smiles.

I read, he stops me.

"Pass me those combat boots."

Slowly I reach,

accidentally my tattoo shows.

Little birds are revealed.

"You know, Dorothy. These boots tell a story."

He told me he stormed the beaches of Normandy.

Fighting for us.

The lights flicker, but we don't mind.

He's got boots to show, and a good story to tell.

The light has long since gone

Crushed out by the desires of man

Leaving only a need to bleed

What lies at the end of the

Horizon?

Dreams engraved like carved

Tattoos, or a hollow

Skull, facedown once again

Any soul with a decent head, will

Tell her that she's pretty.

Who could say a girl isn't, and not

Feel shitty?

She was pretty sexy though,

Combat boots and a tight shirt.

So beautiful that even looking

Could hurt

Would you pity a Goddess?

Just try and feel bad for Aphrodite

You'll all see someday just how

Mighty she can be

How your heart can't even see

What love is meant to be

She is not the definition of perfect

She is broken, defeated, worn

She cares too much about those

Who care too little

She wears her heart on her sleeve

And she says you are her world

The lights in her storm-grey eyes

Are all but out

Lit only by your love for her

You tell her she is your Aphrodite

But the words

Bounce off her skull

You tell her you love her

From her scruffy, ebony hair

Streaked with silver and blue

To the tattoos of heavenly bodies

Swirling over her own

To the very tips

Of her worn-out combat boots

But she still doesn't listen

And maybe she never will

You will always love her

You will always be hers

You will always say she's beautiful

And nothing will ever change that

Don't shut out the light.

Life goes before your eye.

Yet a tattoo you can't hide.

Even if not so much an Aphrodite.

Using you skull against the might.

Lace your boots and give a fight.

And don't shut out the light.