An Unorganised Mess Poem by Karla Bell

What a strange word love is…
What does it mean
Where does it go
Can you own it
Nobody knows

It makes such a tangle
An unorganised mess
It stirs emotions
Unknown
And undressed

It cuts so deep
Love is sharp?
How can this be?
What love…
Played on a harp!

It makes no sense
Saying
I love you
Anyone can say it
Even when it’s not true

You might think it
You might say it
But do you know what you do
The simple damning
Of saying you do.

I sit
And I wonder
I sit some more
I catch my tears
As they fall on the floor

I say in my head
Do you think its true?
Sometimes
When whispered to me
The words “Oh yes, yes I do”

I can’t help but think
You have no idea
When you love such a thing
And hold it so dear,
You must build the trust,
Built on more than a word
As the actions used to send it
Might not quite have been heard


(Karla Bell)