P) Hope

I watch them through my weary eyes and know what's coming
next.
They argue like two actors, reading from a text.
But actors speak with feeling, so they become their parts.
This ritual is just an act, neglecting their cold hearts.

When they said 'I do' all those wasted years ago
Were they so na?ve, did no one let them know
That a wedding's not a marriage, a promise is just words,
Love is not the fairytale that we've so often heard.

Love is like a tree; at first the leaves are green.
Then they drop, and emptiness blossoms where they've been.
Then when love and passion are long forgotten lies,
The tree, deprived of nourishment, withers, rots and dies.

Sometimes I think there is not tree, just nettles choked with
weeds,
And our long search is futile for those non-existent seeds.
But if I let myself believe this, I don't think I could cope.
It may be just illusion, but am I wrong to hope?