Love Poetry Unpened
Someone said once that the greatest sign of a poet’s devotion is writing you into a poem. There’s just one problem- I can write decent poetry with good rhythm and flow, and I have the utmost respect for poets, but it’s not my preferred art.
I’ve written poetry for lovers before. It always feels… wrong. It’s like I’ve forgotten the punchline to that favorite joke. The missing part is usually the same. It’s how they fit into my life- something damn hard to convey without actually living the life itself.
I’m not sure anybody swoons for love poems unless the piece is about them.
So is it the poem or the emotion behind it that plucks our strings? I’m not sure, and I’m not sure it matters.
Poetry is dense as hell, and most don’t love digging for meaning. I agonize, analyze, and fidget at every moment of my love life- too much thinking for something that should just be.
My love for a few people is boundless as the sea. They make my life better just by being in it. Their entire history went into who they are though. If I scratched out their likeness on paper, it wouldn’t be them anymore.
Just a shitty sketch of the sun and stars.
The thought of turning my loved ones into shadows on a page feels like sucking the marrow out of their lives and spewing it out for fun and profit.
It feels disrespectful.
I’ve written poems for lovers before. I’m not sure I will again.
