for i loved...
i loved her,
at least, i thought i did.
i thought she was the everything
and the ending to my novel
that special chapter and the preface to my writing.
i thought she was everything i ever knew
that perfect somebody to place in my heart
forever caged in my lust.
i wished she was a diagram on how to swoon me over
like the delicate little bug towards her flower patch.
for i loved again,
yes i say again
for at one point i loved myself,
even though those thoughts drifted away
into the layered idea
and let downs of trials past.
loving her was easy
because i was gently keeping myself in check
like the papered document used to monitor my daily routine,
a calendar of sorts, everything was organized
and easily planned out.
everything seemed simple,
it seemed right.
maybe that was my mistake as
dancing with light
should be dangerous,
if i truly loved i would cry,
and yes i did.
when she leaves...
if i truly loved i would run for miles
and do everything i can to be with her
as i tried
but she leaves...
i don't think the question is
if i truly loved,
i think the real question is...
May this be to allow your poetry to form motion however poetic or otherwise it may be
1 post • Page 1 of 1