I want to write a love poem, but I just can’t find the words
Each day with you is new, a rip off daily calendar
some days I laugh until I cry, other days
I’m coughing up sobs and regret
and still more I just don’t get.
I want to write a love poem, but that’s not how this works.
I can’t write of love, though it fills my days with sunshine.
Love is not so easily described, only understood if you’re in the throes of it.
People understand pain, loss, but not love,
I could say how it feels today:
love is a wild mystery, a traipse through a jungle with no map in hand.
The rain pours down, cool on my skin, refreshing
The sun rays reach me through the impossibly green canopy
I feel the strength of the trees, the hope of the green shoots,
the wild freedom of the monkeys overhead.
The rhythm lies within me and the song of the birds echoes
the song of my heart.
My love is strong, wild, and largely unexplored;
I make the path as I go on my way,
curious tourist and determined adventurer
Today my love is warmth and sun
exhilarating times and smiles wrapped into one