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By Katuura Philip Musozi (K.P.M.)

Why do so many love poems seem to tell the same story? Someone falls. Someone leaves. Someone gets hurt. Then the poet reaches for the pen. In I Hate Love Poems!, Katuura Philip Musozi, writing as K.P.M., takes a witty and skeptical look at romantic poetry, infatuation, heartbreak and the clichés we repeatedly mistake for love. Yet beneath his criticism lies an important admission: perhaps love can only truly be understood by the person who has walked through it.

I hate love poems!

It’s the same record on repeat:

“I loved her, but she didn’t love me.”
“I loved him, but he didn’t love me.”
“I’d do anything for you…”
“Why’d you leave me?”

A cantankerous chorus!

I love love.

It’s beautiful, true,
sad and blue.

Encompassing every emotion,
giving us a reason to live,
to push on.

Till, till…

Till love becomes the mask for lust,
for infatuation and kindness,
yet it should be built on trust.

Now everyone thinks that
five minutes of eye contact,
one week of conversation,
a three-month contract,
and the same cliché lines
qualify as love.

Blinded by the numbing desire
to feel for someone who isn’t you,
to hold and comfort,
to call them boo.

Then have it all crumble down
and bleed out the quill
for someone put in your life
to show you what’s real.

To be a lesson,
not a mission.

It’s humorous
how the two juxtapose.

Women fall quicker.
Men fall harder.

Pretty obvious
when you take a peek
into their writings.

The poetess—

Piles on piles of love poems
under the guise of,

“I don’t usually write these.”

As many as they are,
it’s always the same.

Naivety meets experience.

True love meets infatuation.

And my personal favourite:

“I thought he was the one…”

I mean, come on!

Once bitten, twice shy, right?

But they somehow manage
to contradict.

The poet—

His are countable
on a chicken’s foot.

Though they hit the hardest.

All due respect to the ladies,
but when the poet falls,
he has already tried his best
to stay upright.

But once it happens,
the soaring makes him vulnerable.

He thinks he’s sprouted wings
and flies until they pay homage to Icarus
and plummet to their demise.

Sometimes, the two writers
don’t get up,

constantly wallowing
in their blood and tears.

But those who do
have scars—

a constant reminder
of their failed past endeavour.

But then again…

Maybe I’m being too harsh.

I mean,
if I’m being honest,

Only the feet know
the sharpness of the thorns.

— K.P.M.

Author Bio

Katuura Philip Musozi, also known as K.P.M., is a 20-year-old artist with aspirations of becoming a lawyer. His artistic journey began with drawing before he transitioned into poetry, which he describes as the art form that could keep his spirit alive.

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