My chest overflowing with letters you sent,
Each envelope haunted by your perfume.
This catharsis — I assume it consumed
The pain but is this merely a figment?
You wrote of darkened days and ghosts at night,
Then begged me, “please, what have I done wrong?
You have been gone for far too long
I’m here for now, but I’m losing the light.”
I thought the darkness was my weakness
But it’s funny how I see clear now.
You did no wrong, It was me all along
And now I’m left haunted, chasing your ghost.
Sliding sheets, our lips submit.
Silently exhaling, shivering,
Slithering to my ears
She whispers —
I love you.
If love’s a game then I don’t know
How to play it. I don’t know the rules
Or if there even is one. What makes
You fall in love? What makes this
A poem? Is it because I split a
Is there a beat I must adhere
Or ten neat words, now can you see it clear?
There is a fine line between
Literature of this kind; if I combine
These lines would you still mind,
Must I count the times I rhyme?
How do you define love? You might
Be able to, but so could he, so
Who’s right? Sometimes I try
To put it down into words —
But they just don’t feel right.
Maybe that’s just it — maybe it’s
Just a feeling,
But I haven’t felt it yet.
He said he wouldn’t buy her a flower
Because all it does is eventually wither
So he folded her one out of paper —
Out of an already withered tree.
Before you fall, trust where you’ll lie,
Then take the leap, so you can fly.
But take it slow, don’t bow to lust,
Could take a while, but you will last.
Just break your heart this one last time
To tell of how you lost your mind
Then let that tale be left behind
And watch the stars as they align.
But if you leave after that fight,
You’d never get to reunite.
And if you think you might want more
You are already out that door.
The moon did just enough that night
To touch her face and watch her glow.
I saw her beam like heaven’s light
then touched her hand — She caressed my soul.
Just like a light on Shakespeare’s stage,
I stooped behind and watched her shine.
Unlike Juliet she was of age
Yet still too tragic to call her mine.
She dragged me out into her light
And a pilgrim I was no more.
I took her in and held her tight
Then kissed her as they watched in awe.