Tag: Love

i don’t know love by the book —i know it by the smell of your coat after rain,by the neon bruise that hums outside our window,by a coffee cup that rings like a bell when you set it down. i love a smile that’s crooked like a bad harmonica,it sneaks up on me from the … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – LOVE, v7. (scratchy jukebox edition – Tom Waits style)

i count the moments when your hand finds mine,small clockwork measures that unseat the dark.your smile, a ledger, balances the day;your voice, an ordered tide, refines my thought.i learn the grammar of your silences,repay them with a careful, steady ear.we argue, not to wound, but to be clearer;we fail, then practice courage like a craft.there … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – LOVE, v6. (Sonnet)

i’m not sure what love is,but i can list its ridiculous perks. i love a grin that sneaks up like a catand ambushes my morning coffee.i love eyes that play hide-and-seekwith the important bits of my face. i love hands that high-five and then apologizefor being so good at holding things.i love hugs that smuggle … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – LOVE, v5. (Lighter)

i'm not sure what love is; i know its shadow.it is the appetite that wakes at midnight,a small, precise hunger that learns your shapeand traces the hollows where light once lived. i love the way you keep a pocket of achelike a coin for later—found and folded in.your smile is not bright so much as … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – LOVE, v4. (Darker)

i’ve never defined love.i catalogue it. a smile that docks my breath,eyes that hide a whole country,hands that read the weather of my skin. a laugh that licenses my absurdity,words that pry open rooms i’d closed,arguments that teach me tenderness. artists who give themselves away,courage that mistakes itself into invention,a heart under renovation. you begin … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – LOVE, v3.

i’m not sure what love is,only what it does. i love a smile that tugs me under—an invitation, small and blunt—so my mouth answers with a borrowed grin,so my chest rehearses missing before you leave. i love the eyes that keep a templebehind their light, a place I want to baptize myself inand learn the … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – LOVE, v2.