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Make Room for Poetry

by Anj CP | Love Poems and Other Mushy Stuff

Tag

romantic

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.

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.

Until You Figure Things Out

Someday you’ll realize who pours the coffee when you yawn;

Or who always has a dry sleeve for you to cry on.

Who opens the door when you need a place to crash in;

Who cheers the loudest when you stand up to sing.

In time you will know this poem was for you;

And also this shirt, because I know you love blue.

But until them I am in this precarious state

I hold my heart by a string, awaiting its fate.

I deserve more than your kindness, but kindness will suffice.

When you do figure out where I stand, please be nice.

In Our Twilight

If I had met you

in our youth,

Oh the places

we would have roamed together

And how many changes of colors

and tastes and sights

we would have shared.

But still,

I am thankful to have met you

in my twilight

Where blurred lights make the lines

on my face softer

And your hands steady mine.

Fictional

It was the same road,

But a different direction.

It was the same words,

But a different intention.

When I look back

I find myself in contention

If all that ever was

my mind’s own creation.

All This Time

I used to fill my days to the brim

Never giving a moment’s pause,

Ignoring your gentle tugging;

Your antics, always trying to

steer my attention; stealing what

Limited time I have to climb that

golden ladder with no end in sight.

Don’t you understand how precious

my time is and how

the softness of your lips;

Your warm breath on my ear;

Even your delicious sweat

Are all unwelcome distractions?

But now, how odd that what I thought

I didn’t have enough of, I have in such abundance;

Now I spend days hugging unwashed sheets;

Inhaling the scent from the clothes you left behind;

Remembering the words you breathed in my ear.

What will I do now with all this time?

Not An Easy Question to Answer

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