Why I’m a Romantic Scrooge

It is hopeless to be a romantic when one is not worth so much hype.
That walk on the beach while the breeze whistles songs in the joy of the union
And the waves reach out to shake hands in agreement; that is not
What I am worth and that is not what I shall ever have.
A rose for me presented with eyes that dance in my essence,
That is not a privilege that I, myself shall see outside of fiction
Those sweet nothings of poetry that he whispers in my ears,
There’s no reality to that, those are words I’ll never hear.
I’m not worth a romance. I’m not worth a heavy smitten sigh.
I will never be treated with such a passion, there’s no need
To keep hoping for such a life. I am only worth a cheap dinner
And a free movie at the most. Keep quiet while I feed my face
And don’t say a word so that he doesn’t miss the best scene.
A cheap date and a cheaper fuck. That’s what I am to these men, you see.
Okay, that’s fine, but I could give the gift to him.
I could shower him
With passion, I could give that much to him.
I could give to him what he’ll never give to me.
I could be more to him than just his lust I fulfill. I’ll show him.
I could give him that, but he cares not for such motions.
Throw all that romance away. He’ll only shrug.
Let it drown in the ocean.
I might as well bury my passion in the waves.
Because I’ll never be
Worth that much to a “him”, not once during any of my days.
Not one of them will ever see me fit. I’m just an easy item.
A little late to bloom into service,
and novice level at that, but I can be easy just the same,
just enough to ease his craving.
So that’s all I’m worth to any man? Okay, that’s fine,
I’ll settle for a life of the take-home door prize;
I know I can. I’ll turn my passion into bitterness,
because though I’m only slightly used
when compared to the rest,
I’m still just another whore that had one job
And even at that, I’ve never once been the best.
I’m one of those door prizes that a desperate man
has to settle for. Give me his room to clean
and his kids to raise, so he can retreat
to his man cave and shut the door.
We’ll never walk by the waves.
To hell with them both. Both of the men that made me bitter this way. They’ve given other’s what they couldn’t give me;
Before and after their desires shifted to me, the one that’s only good enough to make faster their empty days.
To hell with them both, I’m better than what either of them ever cared to give me.
I’m worth more than something to settle for or pass the time. I’m worth a walk by the sea! I am worth the romance! And one of these days romance is what I shall be. And neither of them will be worthy to walk with me by the sea.

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