I wanted to write a love poem.
The ones about us and how our love was the drug that kept me going.
The ones about if our love was a cigarette
Then I would be the smoke in your lungs or the ash on your tongue drowning out everything you wanted but me.
I would have written about how I would lay in your arms and cry a sea, and you'd wait patiently to look me In my eyes and tell me you love me.
Collect what was left of me and remind me that you would always be there.
But I knew that piece of me would always be gone lost in the universe
I wanted to write about how I let you slip through my fingers. The same way you slipped into my pants.
All the times I let my fingers become explorers like your body was new land, call me Christopher Columbus.
Pretending I was the first to ever explore you, even though deep down I knew there were people before me.
And I love the smell of us.
How you said you could smell the sea in my hair and I found it in your eyes.
Remembering how when our fingers intertwined the rest of the world never mattered anyway.
I wanted to write a love poem.
But we both fell short of being in love, You wanted all of me and I lost parts of myself long ago, I was only emotionally unavailable...
love,
You have moved on and I am left to wonder what if?
I wanted to write a love poem.
But I have never had the experience to do one......
