Language Of Love Poem by Karen Touzalin

Language Of Love



As a poet, I can only write about what I know
I know that the day begins with a sunrise
and sleeps with the sunset
and I know that I loved you.

Loving you was not a period in my life.
It was the comma, a slight pause in the order of things that somehow dont really matter any more.
Once you made me the point of your affections.
Joining my beginning and my end as only you could
and did.

I know that love is a sentence, not always emotionally correct in its construction.
There are the frenetic stops and starts, the tentative hesitation that
afflicts the writer’s pen
and the lover’s heart.

Love does not proceed in an orderly fashion
And who says that the ending of love justify the means?
I am no wiser after losing you,
So when simpletons say
‘it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all’
I can never agree.

So I write you into my lines, punctuating my thoughts with your love
trying to comprehend the meaning of it all.
Knowing that a spoken word or my love for you cannot be erased
Realising the grammar lessons taught in school were not too
far from the reality of living
and loving after all.

For RAW, who continues to inspire me to write

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Karen Touzalin

Karen Touzalin

Kingston, Jamaica
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