i am not a love poet
i am not a love poet,
but when i was with you,
i felt warm.
the feeling of your fingers dancing across my skin
like ash in the sky ignited a dangerous fire.
when your lips touched mine,
my wanting for you, your body, your thoughts, your heart,
burned my mouth every time.
when you pulled me close,
it was like pouring gasoline on a fire that already burned so wildly.
i went numb, letting the fire keep me warm,
letting myself be consumed by the sensations.
i loved you then and i love you now
like the match loves the flame
like the dog loves the leash
like my father loves alcohol.
i love you now like i love poetry: beautifully, painfully.
my words get mixed up and begin to rhyme with your name,
and suddenly something so wonderful is so hard to write about.
i am not a love poet
because delicate subjects get complicated too quickly,
and i can’t seem to make up my mind:
today, i want to wake up and you’re
the first thing i see.
i want to leave every bad day behind
because you are at the beginning of every good one
but tomorrow i want to be more than just alone.
when thunderstorms come,
i want to hold myself, take my own hand,
i want to tell myself i don’t need you,
this want has become the extinguisher
to the flame you built,
i found myself drowning from the love we had:
the lock screen on my phone, the necklace you gave me,
my instagram feed, pictures on my wall,
conversations with others,
and even my dreams.
my surroundings reminded me
that i needed a break from this thing they call love.
i needed to rebuild the flame you created,
but with these words that i gave you, you looked
as if you had witnessed your own funeral,
i could blow on your skin and it would shatter.
tell me, love
am i so much of your happiness
that your world would stop if i left?
do you still love me
knowing that it had become unbearable for me?
i had become a caged bird in the forest itself,
tearing myself apart between
i love you, i hate you
i want you, i don’t need you.
only now have i learned that
the ripping and tearing of emotion had been too much.
only now have i learned that for you,
i am no love poet.
