Language of Love

You don’t see it on my face
I guess.
It’s not in the space usually looked for.
It’s in the words,
 although hidden,
like old notes in a book,
language cloaked in a rough and raspy cloth,
to hide the velvet of my heart.
I love you doesn’t come easily,
they stumble and crowd together in my throat,
like clumsy people in large wool coats.
Emerging as;
Be safe.
Where the hell have you been?
Are you hungry?
You don’t see it on my face
I guess.
My expressions are not arranged to glow,
or shine tenderly with the finer feelings.
They’re frowny and fearful and preoccupied,
but the preoccupation
is a side dish of love…
Have you eaten?   I love you
Don’t be late.   I love you
Try again, try harder, try your best.   I love you
Nothing.   I love you
I said Nothing.   I love you
Yes, I will.   I love you
No, I won’t.   I love you
Just forget it.   I love you
You never talk to me.   I love you
Goodbye.   I love you
Goodbye.   I still love you.

About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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One Response to Language of Love

  1. Pingback: Writing Links 6/12/17 – Where Genres Collide

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