Love Poems

Poems to Become Infatuated With


Of all the most heinous ploys,
None shatter the illusion like joy.
Right when you’re at the lowest low,
It comes swiftly like a crippling blow;
The person that brings it like a toy
For you to play with and enjoy.
Just leaving it there for you to employ
All the days, as you see fit, like a dish
Engraved with the saying "As You Wish"

Not dependance, love or lust,
But someone I feel I can trust
With all the tiny things about myself
That truly make me who I am,
In proof of what I could be and am,
But ultimately sitting on a shelf;

Just collecting more debris,
Holding a check for the payee
Of my emotionally charged brevity;
Payable with my time, my skill
My ego and every ounce of will
I can muster to culture levity in this ghostly embrace

All the things I’ve missed;
Misbehaved, misunderstood
The misdirection of what’s good
Misguided by things I thought weren’t important
Other things misaddressing a concordant
Misappropriation of how I think and feel
A misalignment in all of the time spent
Just being myself (or not), no vent
And to simply imply
That you can deny
A feeling of loss
Is quite a toss!
Is a far-fetched string
Of senseless hope
Better than none
At the end of a rope?

To be with someone in spirit
Can be equally availed
To the end of being near it;
Being close to it, tied to it;
To feel the burning sear of it;
To taste a fleeting glimpse of it;
Finding all the ways and modes
And potential slim alcoves
That define a current blight
Of a clearer communication so right
That it clouds your very sight;
Like a cloud so intensely bright
That it switches you from the sun;
And once you realize it’s done,
You’re obliterated.
Simply one.

...To realize
...That all the lies
That you ever told to it
ARE in fact lies just to help
You belong with merit
To a club you can’t leave;
A redundancy.

Busted in,
Busted out,
Busted through
Busted into all the discomforts
And multiplied metaphors
That turn into the hurts
And things that chain more
Of what we are to what we’re not.

The chains are rusted.
To be mistrusted
Is the ultimate silent killer.
Around every corner lays
The outcome even chiller
Than the one from prior days
That renders us what we’re not.

What we’re not
Is an interesting thought
To be had on days off,
Thoughtlessly had by others
To laugh at and scoff
While we feel the smothers,
Away from what we are
And what we are
Is a useless jar
Of all the things we value
Above all other things, truly.
And dim the light, shall you?
Leave me alone so cruelly,
To be what we aren’t.
As the chains do fall away,
We can see a bright new day;
No more fettered interactions
And a lack of subtractions
In what we have to say;
The way we want to play;
How we plan our day;
The way others make us sway;
To truly be what we are, without judgement, criticism, harsh words, preconceptions, and all these other things that just get in the way over time and create a soundproof, ladderproof wall that no one can climb to say

An entangled mental state
That obliterates
All things left around, innate.
All the things that create
A mess to titillate
Other people around the fray.
Somehow, he’s got to find a way
To unequivocally say
All the things he wants to:

I love you so much...
It puts me out of touch
With all the stuff that makes my life up;
Your enchanting ways,
And colors and thoughts,
Leave me feeling lobotomized and dazed
Inside of a trickling, heavy sugar glaze
Of everything I’ve ever thought;
Wanted, Had, and Not;
Resigned to the fate
That I’ll discriminate
And share only part of my thoughts;
But alas, I can’t
And I smell the scent
Of a happiness I can’t
Imagine belonging to me;
We’ll see
Who knows what’s in store for us?
Us is a thing, you know.
You feel it everytime, you know
You feel it immensely,
To the point of lunacy, you know.
It’s so pure, everytime
To the point of rarity, you know.
All I know is
I couldn’t possibly feel like "more" than I do
When I’m with you.
That’s what the definition of "is" is.

To be near me
To hear me
To love me and need me
To be strong for them
To hold me and feed me
All those tiny reassurances that it’s cool.

Maybe it’ll mean something
to someone sometime somewhere
In summary execution
Some different
Sum or outcome
We’ll see
To be