Don't call it love if
You're not resting on a bed of air
The wind doesn't tickle your neck
The butterflies don't tangle with your hair;
You're not flying to the moon
You're not plunging back down like
A silver meteor
Your wings don't flap together with your heartbeat;
You're not walking on a tightrope
Way up high, high, high where
Eyes of gods are underneath your feet and
Only the sky can catch you if you fall;
(so if you look below, beware)
You're not swimming in a sea of euphoria
Nor are you drunk, drunker or a drunkard
You're not free from trepidation's titanium chains
Ecstasy isn't trickling from lips like wine;
Don't call it love if
Your heart isn't beating just the tiniest bit faster.
YOU ARE READING
Harlequin
Poetrycome indulge in voluminous daydreams and help yourself on raging tidal emotions. • poetry collection
