Some say love, it is a hunger.

With eyes like the summer, all beauty and truth. In the morning I fled; left a note and it read "Someday you will be loved." (Death Cab for Cutie)

At only 19, such bold and brave love songs offer succor to youthful souls. We've got the rest of our lives to try and err. Assumptions have been made, do forgive the sweeping statement of ostensible yet partial truth. But tell this to a lady of 55 and have her not look at you with askance, hate and/or bitter amusement, will you? It's near enough to taste. 

I'll never be like her. Hell no. 

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