You Asked Me Not to Write You a Love Poem


you asked me not to write you a love
poem and I guess for anybody else it shouldn’t have been so hard to keep that
promise but I have a bad habit of bleeding ink and every time I think the scars you
left are healed I am somehow faced with more metaphors to clean and you asked me
not to write you a love poem because you didn’t want to know how much you meant to me you thought the pressure might crush you honesty is something I’ve come to reserve for the penciled-in heartbeats that flow
from my fingers they don’t mind being crushed they know it means they were too
good for this world you asked me not to write you a love poem and I said okay what else can you say to the person who makes you bleed metaphors day after day it’s okay I like to think of broken promises as bridges burning and though
that means going back is no longer an option on the card table I think the
fact that we made it across alive is pretty incredible when we hold hands our
palms are so tight that gravity gets jealous maybe that’s why my heart drops
to the floor every time you walk in the room maybe that’s why my fingers grip
the pen tighter when I write your name maybe that’s why the metaphors keep
finding paths and backroads through my veins and onto scrap pieces of paper
littered in my room but you asked me not to write you a love poem and in doing so indirectly ask me not to love you I’m sorry my heart is a wild colt I’m sorry
I wake up in the middle of the night bleeding metaphors I’m sorry I love with
a pen and paper but bleeding feelings is the only way I know how to stay afloat under the heavy sea that is my own soul my memories are holding a gun at the
back of my head and the air around us is force-feeding me metaphors my hands are
shaking with how much they want they need to confess the reason for being but you
asked me not to write you a love poem and in doing so unknowingly asked me not to love you I’m sorry that I can’t keep that promise honesty is something I’ve come to reserve for the people I make from paper just close your eyes and listen let’s crumple together

2 thoughts on “You Asked Me Not to Write You a Love Poem

  1. "When we hold hands our palms are so tight that gravity gets jealous." I freaking loved that line. You had a lot of great or rather amazing lines in here. And not being able to write a poem about someone equals being unable to love them. Spoken like a true poet. I loved this piece. Well written and awesomely read.

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