My love of you
Is the amount of love
Bound in the birthday poem
I wrote for my mother
When I was eight
My love of you
Is more than the sarcasm
Contained in the worst misanthropic shit
I could ever think of
Though, is slightly less
Than the number of stars
In the night sky.
My love of you
Tastes like a neat curse
On someone's angry black tongue
That apt, adequate
I love you like time loves time.
Zones apart, on different faces of the planet
Yet that rythme, of moving together
I love you in a way, similes fall short.
Even words fail
So no matter how ridiculous it sounds, I earnestly believe that I deserve the right to love you. In my own ridiculous way. I cherish this right too much, it's almost sacred. I choose to love you, because I know no other prejudice.
Though all love fades, and no man can ever be able enough to deserve a woman completely in forever time, I love you now. In a way, I desperately need you to appreciate that in as long the now lasts.
Is the amount of love
Bound in the birthday poem
I wrote for my mother
When I was eight
My love of you
Is more than the sarcasm
Contained in the worst misanthropic shit
I could ever think of
Though, is slightly less
Than the number of stars
In the night sky.
My love of you
Tastes like a neat curse
On someone's angry black tongue
That apt, adequate
I love you like time loves time.
Zones apart, on different faces of the planet
Yet that rythme, of moving together
I love you in a way, similes fall short.
Even words fail
So no matter how ridiculous it sounds, I earnestly believe that I deserve the right to love you. In my own ridiculous way. I cherish this right too much, it's almost sacred. I choose to love you, because I know no other prejudice.
Though all love fades, and no man can ever be able enough to deserve a woman completely in forever time, I love you now. In a way, I desperately need you to appreciate that in as long the now lasts.
3 comments:
Right to Love! Just as unique a concept as your style of writing and describing it!
Simply breathtaking!
@Anonymous, you know what the problem with being anonymous is. I know that tonite, I have rocked your world and you've read me out loud, posted a dozen comments on posts ranging across years. I form a picture of you. But a month later, when I come back and read what you've written now, I confuse you with the couple other anonymouses whose worlds I have rocked too. Your picture in my head, gets confused, distorted. And I don't seem to like that. Much.
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