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Love?!
Christina E., Henderson, NV

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By Catherine J., Belchertown, MA

      This is not a love poem.

This is not a sonnet or a ballad

proclaiming your hair and eyes better

than any I have ever seen.

They are fine features, to be sure.

Your hair is delicate like spider webs

and the dark-like stained oak.

and sometimes when I see your eyes,

I think

glacier.

I will not lie and say you are perfect.

You are indecisive and overcautious,

loud when I want quiet,

quiet when I want noise

(I could set my watch to your mood swings,

if I wore one).

But even though your eyes are not

exactly the piercing color of

frozen oceans,

And despite your inability to decide

if you like crickets better than grasshoppers,

it is on your chest that I lay my head,

your lips that I kiss when I am

too lonely to write, or breathe.

you whom I leave the door unlocked for

every time you storm out.

It is always the same,

and you always come back.


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