I have seen a princess charge toward the G.I. who knelt before her, grab him by the collar, pull him to his feet, and say “No! We are equals! You will stand WITH me.”
I have often seen the tenderness of love exemplified this way.
Something that bothers me is how often my poetry is criticized for being “overly sentimental,” or “cliche” or “ignorant of the way those you’ve lost have hurt you” regarding the idea of love and those I’ve been that close to.
Blame me, not my poems, for that.
For it is a flaw in my character ladies and gentlemen. It is not limited to my poetry. Poetry merely translates the tongue of the heart. If that’s the language of a fool, then so be it.
For I am mature enough to know how tender and vulnerable love can be. I have been hurt through it in ways I hope none of you ever have to go through. I have put my heart through a lot by caring for people as freely as I do. Make no mistake: I know full well how painful and destructive the aftermath of love can be.
But I refuse to blame love for that.