Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2018
I do not love you like the ocean,

I’m much too scared of drowning.

Instead I love you like a battered paperback,

small enough to pocket

on walks from dorm rooms to lecture halls.

I love like the blanket my housemate bought me,

too pink to be polite

but a soft cucoon against my skin

warm on cold winter nights.

I love you like anything that can be forgotten

tucked away or to one side,

but hangs around in the quiet moments

still very much alive.

I do not love you like life itself,

but I love you a little like breath.

In the same way that I do not think about it,

in the same way that to not would be nonsense

in the same way that I don’t know how to stop

without the pressure in my chest building

to a point where I think I might shatter me pieces.

I suppose I love you a little like breathing.

I do not love you like the ocean though.

With you I have never been afraid of drowning.
Carol J Forrester
Written by
Carol J Forrester  25/F/Crewe, England
(25/F/Crewe, England)   
230
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems