these love poems
make me a fool—
supposedly.
you, the scientist
you don a white coat
but that laboratory:
isn’t it cold?
you,
your controls—
me,
no choice
but to let go.
who is the fool?
this love of ours—
its flame
burns textbooks.
i’ll set fire to every library.
for without this love:
there’s no knowing.
yeah, without this love
i know nothing.
no love, no truth—
know love, know truth.
You caught me staring
lost in your eyes—
you asked me what I was doing.
“Stargazing”—
it was all I could muster.
It’s like you plucked the stars from the heavens,
and put them in your eyes:
what is this magic you do?
You are the night sky.
It’s like you stole the Sun,
and put it in your heart:
what is this magic of yours?
Blazing. You bring me to life.
It’s like you’re the universe,
You draw me into orbit—
What a wonderful dance this is.
You tell me,
“I want to see the world”—
but I already do.
We could travel the globe,
There’s nothing worth seeing
if it’s not with you.
Stargazing,
one of our favorite pastimes.
But honey, that night sky
has nothing
on your eyes.
Brilliant. You bring me alive.
your gentle grace
thawed my heart.
what greater image of hope
of rebellion
than in the ruins of a war torn world:
a single butterfly,
dancing, floating,
angelic amidst the ash.
The song of your moan
is an echo in my mind,
What a beautiful chorus,
your cry, so sublime—
Beneath my fingertips,
you became poetry —
no shortage of meaning
in each line of your body.
Buried to the hilt,
in your velvet heat —
and as you came undone,
you thanked me in repeat.
Still in you, I held you,
mere embers in a cuddle—
we melted together,
dissolved in our puddle—
Still can I taste
your need, so sweet,
you, my last meal,
there’s nothing—
no, nothing
I’d rather eat.
Darling,
let us indulge indulgence,
that Epicurean cure.
Let touch be our salve,
my lips be your balm,
and let us yield
to what we feel —
what, my dear,
could be more real?
Let go of thought —
be free, my darling,
think not.
Break that dam,
embrace the rains —
surrender, my love,
surrender, and let your heart
take the reins.
The music of your laughter is color returning to the world; it is springtime after the longest winter.
To be truly seen: that which we both long for and fear the most.
…
The funny thing about the terrifying ordeal of letting yourself be truly known is that there is no real love without it; and yet, we grow so convinced that the love which we so desperately crave would only elude us even more if we were to simply be seen.
It goes something like “All I want is to be loved; but if you were to really know me, you wouldn’t love me.”
All the unlovable and broken bits. The parts of me that desperately need love the most are the parts I cannot show you for fear of you leaving.
Yeah. Something like that.
it is so funny
how love
can inspire infinite wells of verse
yet render one speechless all the same.
…
more stanzas
in that stunned silence
than these hands
could ever pour forth
in a lifetime.
So many ways to say I love you. I choke on the words. Please, please tell me you can see it in my eyes. Tell me you can feel it in my hands. Tell me you can hear it in my heartbeat when your head’s on my chest.
This strange effect you have on me. I’ve hardened myself to the world… but with you, my gaze softens. You melt the ice in my tone, you make me pour forth warmth I didn’t know existed within me.
There are daggers in my eyes by default. One look at you and they’re lowered.
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 