OH, TO BE IN LOVE
A foreign country,
My hair fallen to my knees
—
I’ve run free.
I’m used to rain; however, I could get use to the
sunny.
I refused their protection;
I’m presently used to my own reflection,
Although—can’t someone else, other than myself, share some affection?
I’m in love with a romantic writer
Who writes of a memorable muse.
Though I stay watching Mary Jane shoes through windows,
I remember your face as we chuckle like hilarious weirdos.
(Oh, To Be In Love.)
This class of love
Has me speaking in poems
—
Saying things like
“Forget-me-not.”
It feels out of this world;
I’m your astronaut.
When you look up, I’m viewed as a heart-shaped dot.
(But, A Kiss Is Not Enough.)
God’s my shrine.
We spend Mondays through Sundays together.
Oh, how I enjoy reading your thoughtful love letters
—
My favourite thing,
following warm weather.
(You wear my tears as a glove.)
A prince in disguise,
Your eyes retain the most glorious shape.
In your presence, time is nothing—merely clockwise.
(Why do you leave like a Dove?)
Our youth is lavender-lit.
My once broken soul—
You have now stitched,
as though you know how to knit.
A fleeting lover—
They way you love her,
You’re an unnamed planet to uncover.
My mind simply knows you’re my cinder.
I’ll forever find you—and likewise,
We’re two flinders.
(To you, my love is something you can shove.)
_________________________________________
Want to try your hand at poetry? Email me at poeticiapoems@gmail.com
Featured image credits to Rohan Kumar on Pixabay
