That Kind of Love. {Poem}

I never plan to write poetry, it just happens.

It’s like a dust storm that blows through my hand and soils the paper with words. I wrote this in under 10 minutes right before I fell asleep the other night. It poured out of me.

I love writing poetry, because it doesn’t have to be perfect or even make sense, it is simply what my heart is singing in that moment and thank goodness I usually have a pen nearby.

Here’s my latest gust. Enjoy.

That Kind of Love

Yeah, I believe in love.
The kind you can’t hide from, you know?

The kind of love you miss when
he gets up to go to the bathroom,
or to get a glass of water,
and he walks back in,
like a soldier, comin’ home from an eighteen month deployment.

That kind of love.

The kind of love, when you meet for the first time,
you know he’s the one you want to give your love to—all of it,
hand it over like he was robbing you in the alley,
and your life depended on it.
Even if he ran and you never saw him again,
you’d give him everything you’ve got, cause it’s that kind of love.

The kind of love that drowns you,
in conversations until two in the morning about everything and anything.
You can’t remember the starting point,
you just know you don’t want it to end.

The kind of love television is ban from,
and, when you do watch a movie,
you are more fascinated with the dialogue between your limbs and your fingers to his stubble.
Yeah, that kind of love.

The kind of love that can’t get any deeper,
because if it did you might never surface again.
Like getting pummeled by the wave you just couldn’t catch in time—
Only to get swept in it’s somersault.
There is no way to swim out of it—
You are part of it now.
Up or down doesn’t exist.
Yeah, that kind of love.

The kind of love you can’t fight,
because if you do,
you will always lose, it will overtake you,
despite your efforts.

The kind of love that is impossible to find and impossible to keep,
so you don’t even try.
If it finds you,
you are captured and you have to surrender.

The kind of love that has been stalking you your whole life,
only to become part of the slide show—
you and he growing up in parallel universes,
through the seasons of t-ball and dance classes,
fishing trips and graduations and then,
you t-bone one another somewhere a third through your life,
when you’d given up,
and loneliness became your boyfriend.

The kind of love that uncovers a smile you never knew existed,
and a lightness borrowed from the clouds.

The kind of love that doesn’t want to be patient,
but must learn to be,
because you can’t feel this way, this fast—
It’s not right.
Yeah, that kind of love.

The first date was the final date,
and then, you were just together,
like you had always been.

A kind of love that isn’t kind to time,
it doesn’t want to wait anymore,
it wants to break free and create it’s own clock.

It isn’t great love.
It isn’t making love.
It isn’t perfect love—
It’s life.

The kind of love that brings you to life,
never to die again.
You can’t die,
not with this kind of love in your heart.
You are immortal now.
Yeah, that kind of love.

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