It is a curious thing to love you.
To know the shapes and edges of ones' mind
and yet not know it's true name,
To call out into the void and receive an answer.
Such sweet agony is this,
Drunk on the words of avarice
An unfulfilled need for love
Cascading into an overfull cup.
To be in love with a ghost.
The afterimage on the wall.
The longing which never truly left, after all.
Neither of us fit
The spaces which we are forced to occupy.
Perhaps, that is why I sought you.
Perhaps, that is the reason why?
I was fated to love you
This is something I cannot doubt
Connected as we were
As we ever cared about.
What choice did I have but to love you?
To be intoxicated by your very presence
Your words like smoke drifting through my mind.
Filling my senses with your effervesce.
It is a curious thing to love you,
and I will forever miss your presence.
YOU ARE READING
Of Books and Angel Wings
PoésieThese words were written in anger and in sadness and in love. A collection of odds and ends poems who didn't have a home, but now they do. Mariah M. Gilmore Poetry Collection. All rights belong to me.
