Love Poems

I write a lot of love poems.

Some people think that it’s because I’m shallow

or little-minded.

Perhaps I don’t aspire to much beyond a girl

who loves.

They say I won’t contribute to the economy,

to war, to solving famine, to saving the planet.

They say I don’t know what it means to know math

or to dissect the world and its tiny little species.

They say I lie in bed at night and wish away the world

so that I can live in my own one.

They say I will drink coffee and stay at a typewriter all day

and that I will despise anybody who doesn’t agree with

what I have to say.

But… I just write a lot of love poems.
I have a lot of hurt and pain and longing.

I’ve loved and lost and known and felt.

I don’t aspire to be much beyond a girl who loves,

because I don’t see the potential I have beyond

something so simple as feeling.

I know the world and politics and math and science.

I know the world and I see the beauty in even the horrid bits of it.

Sometimes I stow away into my own mind,

but I know it’s a lonely, decrepit place in there.

So I limit my burrowing and try to sun tan in the logical life

as much as possible.

I write a lot of love poems. But just because I make my heart

public doesn’t mean I’m the only one with one.

We all write a lot of love poems;

sometimes they look like differential equations,

other times a new chemical formula,

other times red knees from praying so long at the altar.

So what if my love is exhibited in little black symbols

on bleached white pages of paper?

Aren’t we all a little marked and battered and bruised

because of love?

Let me write my poems and I’ll let you write yours.


3 Comments Add yours

  1. moonskittles says:

    Keep writing about the best reason to exist…

      1. moonskittles says:

        indeed, and so is writing about love 🙂

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