I don't know how it feels to be in love.
I thought I did once or twice,
But my heart was met with disdain and heartache.
Glancing out the window,
Seeing the shimmering pain shining through the glass;
My tears fell on deaf ears and piles of old newspapers,
Headlining my failed attempts at life, love, and happiness.
there was you.
As you smiled in that photograph,
Capturing our first glance at each other as I walked across that diner with the old pale floors,
I felt love.
Or something that I thought was love.
As months progressed to years,
from the time your hands glided to my hips and you pulled me into you as your lips grazed the back of my neck.
I felt safe and secure.
Something I never felt those other times.
That's how I knew you were different.
You pursued me.
Ignoring and thwarting any and all of my advances.
You wanted me in your own time.
As the earth finished it's final rotation on it's axis closing out the 365 days of the year;
You had me hooked.
Laying in bed,
the night of the full moon,
as a gentle breeze danced with the tall grass that lay outside in our backyard,
I gazed into your eyes.
My arms around your chest as your breath paraded in and out to its own melodic rhythm;
I finally understood what it meant to love.
As your eyes acknowledged mine and you bent down and greeted my lips with yours,
I knew from that moment on,
We were one;
Corey Jones's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Eastern Wild by Corey Jones )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
- Gordon D Wilkinson
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
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Edgar Allan Poe
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