Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
it’s hard to love love it’s hard to deconstruct the nihilism and the consumerism of it all - so this is for you the eternal believer with the kind soul never supine in the face of failure diving head first into calamity by the name of She and maybe you’re right; we’re built for it machines oiled by romance and adoration. perhaps there is only one true meaning. how many hands do I have to touch to connect to the world? how long till my heart bursts? because, it’s the small things and so: love is the blanket love is the month old birthday balloon still valiantly afloat love is the dog greeting you at the door love is his first breath, the gasp of new lungs, is the grasp reflex of a tiny hand around your calloused finger. and would you believe? love is waking up thinking it’s dawn when it’s 2am and you can fall back asleep love is a meal when you’re starving and water when you’re parched love is watching your friend do well because they deserve it. and love is lust realised love is her perfume love is the kingdom of infinite wonder and love is like coming home. love is love is love; find your corner of the sky and fill it with precious things. rest easy.
0
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 8:22 PM UTC
a poem for the beautiful people who love love
it’s hard to love love it’s hard to deconstruct the nihilism and the consumerism of it all - so this is for you the eternal believer with the kind soul never supine in the face of failure diving head first into calamity by the name of She and maybe you’re right; we’re built for it machines oiled by romance and adoration. perhaps there is only one true meaning. how many hands do I have to touch to connect to the world? how long till my heart bursts? because, it’s the small things and so: love is the blanket love is the month old birthday balloon still valiantly afloat love is the dog greeting you at the door love is his first breath, the gasp of new lungs, is the grasp reflex of a tiny hand around your calloused finger. and would you believe? love is waking up thinking it’s dawn when it’s 2am and you can fall back asleep love is a meal when you’re starving and water when you’re parched love is watching your friend do well because they deserve it. and love is lust realised love is her perfume love is the kingdom of infinite wonder and love is like coming home. love is love is love; find your corner of the sky and fill it with precious things. rest easy.
new friends giving me new ideas about how to live. turns out happy poems don't leave a bitter aftertaste after all.
sesquipedalian
Written by
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 8:22 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem