We did good the first time we did this
We tried, and heaven can bear us witness
But we failed, not without good intentions

Maybe loving a woman is a thankless job
Forget the credits, forget payback
The last thing you expect
Is the kind of love you give
Forget recompense

She’ll try, in bits, in seasons
Or in strange currencies, perhaps
But hers is to take, to take
And yours is to give, and give
Again, it’s a woman’s world
A man is just the figure-head
He serves her purpose, solely

Maybe, I’m wrong
But till then…

We failed, because we thought
That the same could be ours:
Loved, cherished, and prioritized
Just as much as we meted out

The burden of our emotional needs
We placed on her, in anticipation
That in time, we could take a break
Smile, enjoy the same
Recline, and then start again
But alas, our disappointment was great

It’s no fault of hers, really
A man should expect little
His needs should be subtle
He’s here for a duty he must fulfill
He must look away from his needs

Perhaps, his emotional fulfillment
Must preclude this one
This gorgeous and beautiful one
Or else he’ll die starving
He must man up, deny his needs
The pampering, the attention
The love, the care, the emotions
He must look away, to work
To sports, to friends,
Or to another woman, to sex

His work in Love has no end
His work for Love has no rest
And she can’t help him
She can’t help him replenish
So he must have friends, family
Those who fill up his cup, regularly
Then he can go back to his love
The curse society has placed on him
There he goes to empty his cup again
An endless cycle of expectations unmet

And that was where we failed
For nobody told us,
No one taught us
So we loved,
Yearning to be loved too

Grow up boy, grow up
The world is a mess
Love isn’t a haven
It’s just a thing
It’s not special
Do it, or don’t
It’s just a thing
It’s not special

You’re not rated here
You’re not important
You’re only here for what you can give
Do not delude yourself for some worth
Again, it’s woman’s world
You’re just the figure-head
An excuse, a compensation

There’s nowhere to hide
Only till death comes
In the world to come, perhaps
Or at least, in these notes for now
Here is all the joy and love
Crafted to perfection
With sweetly piercing words

And oh, no
This is not the voice of truth
Nor the words of wisdom
This is the voice of experience
A heart that’s unsure and uncertain

Maybe I’m right
Maybe I’m wrong
Or I just was once unlucky with love

Perhaps, it’s just this Timi Dakolo’s ‘Vow’ messing with my head.

Whichever way, I stand to be corrected
And I hope you can help with that

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