6/4/19

I want to start by being 

honest: I am not a love poet. 

In fact, every time I try to write about

love, my hands cramp, just to remind 

me of how painful love can be. Sometimes

my pencils break, just to prove to 

me that every now and then, 

love takes a little more work than you 

originally planned. I realize now that

real love is like a supermodel 

before she is airbrushed; it is pure and 

imperfect, just the way it was intended to be. 

Love is blind, so I write my love to you in Braille. 

But I am still not a love poet. 

Not really. 

If I was to wake up tomorrow

morning and decide that I really wanted

to write about love, I promise that

my first poem would be about you; about how

I learned to love you the same way

I learned to ride a bike: scared, but reckless, too, 

with no training wheels or elbow pads, so that

every skinned knee and scraped hand

can tell the story of how I fell for you. If I was

a love poet, I would write about how

I see your face in every cloud and your reflection

in every window. I would write about how

you have the audacity to be beautiful even on days

when everything around you is ugly. I would write

about how I melt with you, every time I hear your voice.

I would write about how, every time I see

your name on the caller ID, my heart

plays hop scotch inside of my chest. It climbs

on my ribs like monkey bars, and I 

feel like a kid all over again. 

I would write a million poems for you, 

always hoping that you will jump out 

of the pages and somehow be closer

to me. I swear that I am not a

love poet, but if I wake up tomorrow

and decide that I really want to

write about love, my first poem will be

about you.

- a.t.

6/4/19

Reviews

[TL]

i got goosebumps reading this... maybe it's because i can relate to how painful love can be but how beautiful it is... i really enjoyed this :)

[Anonymous]

Thank you for the review, I'm glad it could speak to you!