Share   Print  Save   Become a Fan

I Write Soul confession. she and I are still married

Love Struck

I fell in love in the winter;
She was twenty five but looked younger;
I spoke to her with marvelous arrogancy
And days slipped away like low tide.

We receeded, and encysted ourselves
Deep into a room on the fifth floor
Where i turned on my best almond butter smile
And was caught in the subtle net of her clear green eyes;
Trapped by the tender cruelty of her smile.

In six months time we had lost our minds,
Our friends our stuff and our surrogate womb
To the inexorable power of love;
In the seventh month we got married.

a year later we had lost more friends, more stuff
And more rooms than ever before,
but still lived in extended ataraxic bliss,
Deeply entrenched in our groaning desires
To be loved, and fully understood.

Our bed glowed like a hot plate
And sagged like a fat ass
From all the bumpin and grindin, sleeping and eating,
Crying and Fighting: Loving
................................................................................................

It's hard to explain now how everything goes away
When i look into her eyes and only want to be by her side;
How i manage to go to work ever,
Let alone the thirty days that i worked that year.