Looking upon the world,
Dismayed in disbelief...
...and I ask, "What to write?
Realism, romanticism, or surreal thought clouds drifting... drifting...

drifting, as i lay in bed, last night -
mind not able to stay grounded...
perhaps two pitchers of tea, drunk,
led to such... swooning?

i ask myself, if these ladies want to dance...
I ask myself, am I willing to ask, on a chance?

caught up in this whirlwind, this society
burning transgressions large and small
as harassment, as unwanted advances -

I ask myself, "Am I still expected to make first advance?"
...or, maybe, they've made such subtle moves
that i forgot to read the subtext, the permissions?

it's confusing, confounding, and so bloody astounding -
Why can't love and sex be simple?
Why did physical comfort and affection
Have to get all twisted up with abuse and misuse?
"Where's the fucking open dialogues?!"

Still, I fear where to tread...
What touch is left, that's not been declared dead?

I must be careful, 'lest I lose the message, buried in form. I may want touches, hugs, and more; but it feels I can not offer them, anymore. You see, we've lost the safe spaces in which to explore, when the waltzes ended.
I would posit that a fallout of the sexual revolution, unintended, was a loss of clarity in the masses about how to court each other. Perhaps, many have been beat into bewilderment because polite company's taboos keep us silent, in the dark.

But, then, what do I know, with so little experience in dating, under my belt?

Once again, I don't know how much of this is verifiably true, or makes sense... or what else we're being fed, instead. Keep in mind, this is my first draft; and commentary is quite welcome!