I have a story to tell you
Please listen, I'll be concise
You see, my name is Love,
Love Poem to be precise
I was born beneath a shaking pen
Moved by a racing heart
The child of a lovesick boy,
whose love moved him to art
I have smudges from erasers
My corners have dog ears
In the valleys of my wrinkles,
are the stains of quiet tears
I may not look like much at all
but what you do not see
is that locked inside my margins and lines
is a love that was never set free
He trapped it here, between my lines
writing with heart and pen
then he crumpled me up, tossed me aside
and never looked at me again
But don't feel bad, it's happened before,
I am not alone in this world
for many a poem lies alone and unread
on a paper both crumpled and curled
So now you've heard me tell my tale
I pray that you ponder upon it
why aching hearts pour out their love
just to join in the wastebasket sonnet
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 11:06 AM UTC
I have a story to tell you
Please listen, I'll be concise
You see, my name is Love,
Love Poem to be precise
I was born beneath a shaking pen
Moved by a racing heart
The child of a lovesick boy,
whose love moved him to art
I have smudges from erasers
My corners have dog ears
In the valleys of my wrinkles,
are the stains of quiet tears
I may not look like much at all
but what you do not see
is that locked inside my margins and lines
is a love that was never set free
He trapped it here, between my lines
writing with heart and pen
then he crumpled me up, tossed me aside
and never looked at me again
But don't feel bad, it's happened before,
I am not alone in this world
for many a poem lies alone and unread
on a paper both crumpled and curled
So now you've heard me tell my tale
I pray that you ponder upon it
why aching hearts pour out their love
just to join in the wastebasket sonnet