Tag: love poem

I love you, but…

Since when does
I love you
not mean
I love you?
Since when does it mean
I love you but…
You’renotenoughthere’ssomeone
elseletsjustbe
friendsIthinkIneedsome

space.

Since when have I been
telling myself
I love you, but…
Yourthighsaretoobigyourcheeks
aretoochubbyyourlegsaretoo
shortyourstomach’stoo
flabby.

Since when have I
expected to hear
I love you,
but
be treated like
I love you, but…

How long has love
been a lie?
How long have you been saying
I love you
but
wanting more?
Because
I love you
is not
I love you, but…

 

I love you
is
you’reperfecttome,Iknowyour
flawsbutstillandwillalways
want you, only you.

I cannot blame you.
You lied to me,
but
I love you. 

Closure

When you walked out
of my heart, you left
the door wide open.
I poured my soul out
on a paper plane
and chucked it through the
fragile frame,
hoping you’d read the words:
“Please come home.”

I sat for weeks, waiting for you
to close the gaping hole
you carelessly left;
for you to walk through and
apologize for letting the bugs in, you hadn’t meant to, it was a mistake.
but you never did,
so I got up and closed
the damn door myself.

Black Lodge

Words
toss and turn
in my mind, sleeplessly
trying to realize the truth of what
we were. There is distortion

in the movie
that plays on repeat in my head.
Sometimes the actors change
the script slightly, and
like a game of telephone, the verity is
gone.There may be no truth
remaining in my reality. I
turn and toss
in my bed, hoping to reveal what
we were. Hoping that
the script was based on
a true story, that this was
not a mindless twisted obsession. That
the waves within me which I have
worked so hard to kill were real
in the first place. That
I loved you, once. 

12.31.2012

I’m sitting here trying
not to think of 
you, 
but my mind always lets you 
s
  l
    i
     p 

in through the cracks when it 
    
                                                               wanders. 

Five Senses

There are bustling cities
in your kaleidoscope eyes,
and I’ve been waiting for an adventure.
Let me explore them.

There are stories etched
into your porcelain skin,
and I’ve been yearning to get lost in one.
Let me read them.

There are words wedged
between your peanut butter lips
that I’ve been dying to hear you say.
Let me taste them.

The future is flowing
through the lines on your hands,
and I’ve always been superstitious.
Let me feel them.

There are fires burning
in your minefield mind,
and I’ve always loved the heat.
Let me smell the smoke.

He’s Over There

She’s sitting in her rocking chair,
her daughter at her feet.
Her hands braid the child’s hair,
who, with her voice so sweet

Asks her mother with a start
to tell the story, please
of the first boy to steal her heart
and make her weak at the knees.

She smiles and looks across the room,
remembering her young and handsome groom,
and points to him sitting in his chair,
“That’s him, my love. That’s him, right there.”