Poetry in Motion
Alike to the first honeysuckle in bloom, and
swimming pools simmering in the heat of June.
Golden rays peek through my curtains.
An absence of doubt—immediately certain.
Two beating hearts, one unique drum.
A whirlwind, and it has only just begun.
All possible expectations are surpassed.
A simple knowing, confirmation at last.
Like poetry in motion, an ethereal devotion.
An excerpt from “Sweet Dream”
I dismiss “love at first sight”.
It is impossible to know with a gaze.
Still, I reexamined the theory
the moment I saw your face.
It was immediate recognition;
I felt a vigorous pull,
an undeniable tether
between me and you.
How can I feel this force
when I do not know you at all?
But every inch of my body
screams that I am destined to fall.
You know when someone intrigues you?
Although, you are unsure of their impression.
“Are you feeling this too?”
you send a telepathic message.
there is tension in the air.
But no one is moving.
You only get so far with stares.
And when you meet,
it is written on his face.
The hallway is electrified—
the energy is exchanged.
I Think It Is Love
I think it is love when you catch yourself smiling while washing dishes,
or cleaning your bedroom,
or driving home at two in the morning.
I think it is love when you spend more time getting ready,
or when you find yourself fixated on the way they walk.
I think it is love when you crack a joke solely to hear them laugh,
or when you discover more glitter in your average day.
I think it is love when you begin to rhyme their name on paper,
or when you can no longer walk away.
After strenuous hours of interaction,
you get into your car.
The promise of releasing the day’s trials
forces a grin onto your face.
You remember the reason you toil—
all for the moment of return
to the place you can be yourself,
feeling the most safe and calm.
Much like that destination,
there is a person who comes to mind.
A familiar face is flashing
while you are reading this line.
They make you feel secure,
and erase the trials and toils.
They are your haven;
someone you can call home.
When I think of you,
I am reminded of youth.
Sharing slices and smiles
from across the booth.
Laying in your basement,
unpacking former sorrows.
It was the beginning of the end,
misplacing trust into tomorrow.
I can only hope
that when you envision me,
I am dancing in your mind,
and you are fond of my memory.
The Unexplainable Phenomenon
Love may fluctuate. You can feel something for someone so intense, an untraceable affinity, which you simply lacked for a former flame. You may invalidate the depth to which you once emoted, but, know this:
“It was love for what you knew it to be.”
I trust a pen in my wandering hand, yet I am lost as to the manner to say this.
My awareness of your absence has grown to be relentless.
I concluded you to be unsuitable, which I do not go back on entirely.
Apprehension hovers like a cloud; I find I am writing you into poetry.
Our parallel was whimsical. I miss your stupid jokes,
that endearing laugh, and the facets you evoked.
I dismiss it quite frequently. Are you aware of your depth?
I was ever intrigued by you, even before our gaze met.
I wonder if you are informed of this budding curiosity.
I fail to locate the courage to scream, so I will tell you softly.
The Next Time I Fall in Love
The next time I fall in love,
I promise to protect myself.
I will do everything in my strength
not to check into the heartbreak hotel.
I will stay true to who I was
before my soul intertwined with his.
I will bury my safety net for a rainy day,
knowing exactly how to retrieve it.
I will fall once more with an open mind,
not allowing myself to get lost.
For the first time I let go completely,
there were far too many costs.
When you have loved someone this much, it can never truly die. It adopts another form, and is channeled into something just as rare.