This is not a love poem.

This is not a love poem

The idea of writing another love poem

With moving words and recognizable emotions

With hard stone endings and tearful familiar feelings

The idea of writing such a poem is not moving me today

Like there aren’t enough love poems written about a boy who sees right through you

Or a boy who crawled into the deepest parts of you only to leave blood stains on them

No, the idea of writing another love poem isn’t appealing to me today

For love poems are such a cliché, some might say

But I find them to be somewhat of a road map for emotions left behind by sad boys and girls

Romatics who lost their battle with love past

It is the love left in us even after a nasty break up; think about

For when you love someone and they leave, where does the love go?

Does it become the familiar scent you smell when you think about them

Or the magnified memory of how they kissed you gently from your neck to back

Or maybe the song you once shared as a couple

I say it goes into words, an intense explosion of words and emotion

Devouring the last potions of love left behind

It is in the eloquence of words infused with heated lingering feelings

That is a love poem,

That is why people write love poems

But this is not a love poem

This cannot be a love poem

For a love poem will need intensity,

Profound feelings of love, like the kind you had for the first “one”

The kind of love that was so raw and cosmic

Illuminating the very ground you walk on

Setting fire to every nerve within you

And letting lose the chrysalis in the pit of your tummy

Releasing the butterflies,

Caterpillars with wings dirty dancing in the pit of your belly

This is not a love poem,

For such feelings do not come as easy as they used to

With time your first love becomes a distant memory

And all you’re left with are scribbled love poems at the back of books

And a mind so sound that has taken ‘reason’ as a wife

You start to realize that no one is as beautiful as you wrote about them in love poems

Like purity drained from a loved up puppy,

You became jaded,

Tired of the quest for love

So you find comfort in red wine and love poems

Love poems written by tortured souls

By teenagers and the hopeless romantics

For they find sanity in believing in prince charming’s and the frog like prince

This is not a love poem,

Only a replicate of one

One that should never be read with hope of finding an epiphany button

For I am still trying to find that button myself

So I still read love poems written by the lost,

For I am one of them myself

But this is not a love poem.


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