I want to.
Put into words how
blessed I am,
how blah
blah blah.
I wish I had the skill.
But I don't. I can't
explain how you make me
feel. I would
Pause
and close my eyes and shake my
head gently as I tried to think of
the words to describe
us.
You know, it is easy to write about
things you can control. To twist
emotions, create experiences,
laugh, cry, reconsider, or perceive
for the first time;
but
Love
is not a friend of
words witty edge.
It softens the blow
and renders areas of the mind
that are so protected, calculated,
obsolete with innocuity.
Hallmark sucks. And images of Cupid
dancing around in his underwear
throwing darts at will causes
a regurgitative reaction.
Soft, delicate, lacey,
flowery cards with
sprinkles will never
never
explain the content
what the substance is
or how content
you make me feel
your eyes,
when they look like one
because our heads are so
close together.
No, Hallmark can't do it.
I can't either.
But I would try, knowing I'd fail.
But. To live the verb.
Love.
That answers it.
Let us not love in words or tongue
but in action and in truth.
May my actions speak much
louder than these pathetic words.
I'd try to write it down,
how perfect you are for me, for us
together. But I can't. I'd fail.
I suppose this will have to do.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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a poetry seminar, as usual
first off, good to see you submitting again. I've been mulling over a come-back piece myself. Yours seems to have a much purer primary inspiration. You've always been good at avoiding the three C's that haunt the poetry of Love; clichés, corniness, and.....*thinking* two C's wouldn't have done it... oh... "complainy". Great Job.
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[how blah / blah blah.]
I literally laughed out loud at this. It's so gentle, the slide--splitting into two lines was a good idea.
Also dug:
[To live the verb.]
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your suppositions are beautiful. and let me belatedly preface this by saying i'm shit-faced just now. but yeah... Love. The verb. enough said already i think, maybe.
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