Wednesday Writer 10.30

I was never very good at poetry. 

Like that was the class I barely passed in order to receive my degree. 

My professors probably hated me. 

Well this morning I woke up, and I wrote a poem. 

Draft ONE, ya see. 

Comments appreciated. 

Can you write about love?

I sure can’t.

Every time I start, my heart stops

my hand cramps

my legs twitch

my head aches.

The pain of love written on

my battered body.

When I try to write about love

I remember the times when 

nothing really mattered

beyond seeing the smile on your face

the light in your eyes.

I remember the covers on the bed

falling slowly 

on laughing limbs and

warm embraces.

When I try to write about love

I see no end in sight,

true love stories are endless

real love is never finished.

When I try to write about love

the scars on my heart

beat in rhythm,

screaming out the tales of how much I love you

scared, reckless and willing,

Perfect and so familiar.

When I write about love

I want to tell you how much

it all means

I want to do everything she never had the courage

to fight for, love for, reach for.

When I write about love

I remember

that loving you was the last thing I felt really good at.

I can breathe the next 60 years,

knowing you’ll be by my side for it all.

When I write about love

I want to yell

at cupid.

Damn it. I can’t.

stop using me as target practice.

When I write about love 

I want to be drunk

on your footsteps,

planning our life

not my wedding.

When I write about love I get scared

because every time you get close to me

I forget to breathe.