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Archive for October, 2014

Not a Love Poem in October

There’s no writing a love poem for you
  when I’d rather be smelling your neck,
  or rubbing your head,
  or listening to you read anything to me
  (the driest textbook – musical coming from your mouth).

There’s no writing a love poem for you
  while you stare
  with eyes that overflow with adoration
  too epic for a small-town girl like me.

There’s no writing a love poem for you
  by myself;
  you are always present from now on.

There’s no writing a love poem for you
  because our limited time should be spent
  as close as possible.
  How could I ever remove your hip from mine?
  How could I ever take your hand from my back?
  How could I ever disentangle our legs?
  How could I even imagine it?

There’s no writing a love poem for you
  if I don’t know your favorite book or how you take your coffee.
  Is it enough to be intimately familiar with
    the crinkle around your eyes when you smile?
    the sigh you sigh before you cradle my head against your chest?
    the temperature of your lips, the blue of your eyes in the morning and at     midnight?
    your voice affectionately chanting my name?

There is no writing a love poem for you,
  not on paper anyway.

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