Romanticism is a language One I don't hear very often One I block out more than anything
The music of romance is deafening It’s all bass and no melody It’s just intense
The glasses you look through while in love Are not rose colored But instead make all colors far too bright And nearly blind your senses
The taste of infatuation Is one of sugar syrup Too sweet and thick
I don’t listen to this language Because it’s addicting And I hate the come down
When the music is gone The world becomes deathly quiet You scream just to fill the void
When the colors return to normal Everything seems dull and gray Nothing seems worth it
And when the syrup is gone You realize Nothing is worse than the aftertaste of love on your tongue
Beatrice Walker from Storm Lake High School explains, "I find it hard to tell people how I am feeling. It makes more sense to tell it as a metaphor or some other figurative language."