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I don’t write love poems

Or read them for that matter.

The love of which they speak is not one I wish to acquire or even desire.

Stanzas lined with confusion

Blissful lies that confuse and entrap intellect and scorn the independent

Pages filled with clichés of red roses and blue violets

Shelves packed with hyperboles that compare love to skyscrapers but leave out the plunge into depression when u hit the cold ground we know as reality.

Ecstasy.

The inability to speak, think, or even function.

The numbness.

None of which I consider positive attributes.

 They said love makes u don crazy things, but I’ll pass.

Insanity is overrated and I prefer logic.

I don’t write love poems.

I admire a woman who has a mind of her own,

Who can sometimes be combative and comfortable in her skin.

No starry skies,

Googly eyes,

Or fairytales needed.

Just a beautiful woman with a mind to match and ambition to move mountains.

One who urinates and defecates daily and has a cycle monthly.

A real woman.

Keep your rosy skies and romantic eyes and your head in the clouds.

Just grant me a grounded woman.

A couple blemishes, a bad trait here or there.

I need not feel light and free but rather secure and blessed.

I don’t write love poems,

But let’s try to put love in context.

I’m in love with a woman who speaks four languages, fluently, including Braille,

Has short nails and was born double.

Between us there are no corny lines, candy and flowers, but music does play.

For she is classically trained, in the art that includes real melody.

She is she

 and I am me

 and those remain the only components that calculate we.

No third parties or apologies, just pure honest to sincerity.

 With a foundation not as long as others, but quick drying cement is cement just the same.

With conversation based on future endeavors but current issues,

While she studies the heart and I continue to put pen to pad we evolve in the art of trust.

I don’t write love poems.

 But professions of my emotions and elevation of spirit.

Signs that God does exist because only a supreme being could’ve created her.

I don’t write love poems,

Because I know what love is.

Reviews

[Kat Williams]

GIRL!!! why u not sending me read requests? THIS fire!!! Almost reads like two different poems..as if you started with one train of thought and ended up at another station..either way you got some killer moments in there that just pop.. What I wouldn't give to have written this...