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Make Room for Poetry

by Anj CP | Love Poems and Other Mushy Stuff

Category

love poems

Your Face is a Poem

Your face is a poem.

With eyes that dance to a meter,

and lips that speak in rhyme.

I sometimes understand you.

But mostly, I find you open to interpretation.

That is your secret,

and I am endlessly fascinated.

Sticking to Simple Dreams

I know we’re in the middle of a world’s that’s gone and flipped itself over,

and I can’t make heads or tails of things beyond me.

So I’m sticking to this simple dream–

I just want someone to kiss hello,

and to blow kisses goodbye.

On Guns and Hearts

On Owning a gun and giving one’s heart:

It should only be given to a person who can responsibly care for it.

It should only be possessed by a person of sound mind.

It should only be accepted by one who knows he consequences of misuse.

*Somebody reminded my yesterday that poetry can be used to make a stand and my stand is responsible gun ownership.

I think one important key to determining responsibility is complying with a strict protocol on dispensing gun licenses. You wouldn’t give a license to a person not fit to drive, and so should it be for a person not fit to own a weapon.

Never Ready

I ‘ve dry-cleaned the gown that I’ll wear in that surprise party you said you’d throw me one day.

And I’ve packed my suitcase just in case we finally make it to that trip you’ve promised.

I’ve brought my boots out if you ever think of going on that hike.

Our list is getting longer, but not my patience.

I’m so ready for you to be ready.

At An Angle

At a certain angle, our love looks smooth and perfect.

But up close, it is lines crashing upon each other,

Edges jutting out,

Sharp and dangerous.

It is not the kind that will survive scrutiny.

Love Post Quarantine

Maybe we’ll share coffee again someday

in our favorite cafe.

And maybe we’ll hold hands, we’ll see.

Just the thought of it makes me giddy.

Maybe I’ll stare into your actual eyes

and not the screen.

Someday I’ll wake up

and know you’re not a dream.

It might soon, but maybes lie

But I still hope, don’t ask me why

Or when or how

But when this is through,

I will see you.

How It All Ends

You didn’t read how our story ends

Even though it was your hand that wrote it.

Maybe you pictured yourself a hero

and I didn’t need saving.

Maybe you saw yourself kind

and I didn’t need kindness either.

But someday, when you figure out

how to love in earnest,

You’ll open up our book and read til the very end

And know that I never said it was all your fault.

How to Break Up During a Quarantine

  1. Say you lost your pass.
  2. Say your data plan sucks.
  3. Say your place is in “hard lockdown.”

She’ll soon figure out you’re a nonessential.

Troubling

The trouble with me is that I trouble with you.

Who knew of the trouble the two of us could brew?

I didn’t have a clue of what trouble could ensue

when I add a bit of me and you add a bit of you

Oh the tangles I undo when its trouble I pursue.

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