Love in Depth

The most accurate depiction of how I sometimes feel towards those I love.

Eyes that like the pools within our souls, 

house all absolutes.

They have a way of looking both composed and grave, 

the way minds can be unconscious and quiet. 

Where everything had been, is now, and shall always be lying.

Long have perceptions been yielding their evening sacrifice of incense,

burning with the light of red jewels and furnace flames. 

They can look soft and still softer over half heavens,

deep views are their own modest gem. 

They would challenge the moon if not always caught beneath the horizon.

Antique gardens are not as pleasant, 

no knots of flowers who's fragrances wished to be admired could hold such pleasure 

as when a sigh could awaken deep secluded recesses of a heart. 

Where touches can untouch and glide into old wounds like thorns and warm water. 

It can be in all ways, 

always to sudden.

Shines to make us blind to it. 

Cling to as if we lost it,

When lips gently graze lips they can by chance form unimagined oaths in the silence. 

Like strings under the left side of ribs becoming tight and inextricably knotted. 

It owes no further explanation, 

more than just fitful passions that it would claim shivers in the heart.

Sometimes the heart resents its own resilience.

Falling is what it loves, 

and we let it drop like snowflakes: 

slowly and uniquely. 

It would kiss our flushed faces from a place only half believed and entirely unknown. 

Begetting prayers that would wander up rayless minds as something that would whisper:

If you had been, let you never be what you once were.

If you had died, let this be your second life.

If they are absolutes, let your eyes be certain in your certainty when they gaze

into modest waters. 

It is a wonder that one could hold in imagination so closely an image,

that the actual presence is scarcely missed. 

It is an experience that is more expansive than I can comprehend. 

As much  depth as the sea to which the brook runs. 

I sometimes wonder why moralists call this world a dreary wilderness; 

for it blossoms like roses.

"I love you,"

the words have not died so inarticulately on lips. 

I hear them clear and soft, 

perhaps to solemn a thought but, still sweet as music. 

Reviews

[Alejandra Marie]

A lot is being said here. And I agree with quite a bit of it. I feel like its very personal for you. And in a way, it reveals a lot about you. I could be wrong but the way someone interprets such a complex and strong emotion as love says a lot about what kind of things the person has experienced and who they are because of it. With this poem, I feel like you've seen and heard a lot. And you've felt a lot. I also feel that when you do feel, you feel with all your heart. And with all the cruelty there is in the world, feeling with purity and strength is rarely found nowadays. I really enjoy your poetry. I think my favorite part about this poem is your opening, I love how you started with eyes. Because your eyes are the gateway to love within a relationship. You see the person first. And I don't just mean literally but figuratively as well. Eyes represent a visual experience and when you get to know someone to be able to fall in love, aren't you seeing them on a deeper level? Not just their physical appearance but their soul as well.

Love this, your work is beautiful.

[Andrew Rayne]

*Sigh* Thank you. :) I love it when my work affects someone. I am glad you enjoyed it, all of it. :)

[Alejandra Marie]

You're very welcome.