They tell me to write about love,
but I'm not sure I know
what that is.
Is it the warm feeling,
the soft sigh listening to
the smooth sounds of Sinatra,
or is it the insane laughter,
the inability to wipe the smile
from my face,
when I'm with you.
Is it the in between moments,
just noticing,
noticing the quiet, lovely things,
the silence that isn't
all that silent
Maybe, but
It surely isn't the
feeling of home or
the prayers to God,
or the shouts of rage,
the obligations,
or the "have-to's"
If its love because
it's supposed to be,
because you should,
then I don't want it.
I don't want that "love"
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 11:11 PM UTC
They tell me to write about love,
but I'm not sure I know
what that is.
Is it the warm feeling,
the soft sigh listening to
the smooth sounds of Sinatra,
or is it the insane laughter,
the inability to wipe the smile
from my face,
when I'm with you.
Is it the in between moments,
just noticing,
noticing the quiet, lovely things,
the silence that isn't
all that silent
Maybe, but
It surely isn't the
feeling of home or
the prayers to God,
or the shouts of rage,
the obligations,
or the "have-to's"
If its love because
it's supposed to be,
because you should,
then I don't want it.
I don't want that "love"
