Pages but No Poems
It's ironic, isn't it?
Almost all my stories,
almost every single one,
has to do with love.
How some things,
despite what others say,
are more important than it.
How it doesn't always triumph.
How there are different kinds.
How pure it is if it's true.
And yet...
there are almost no poems.
As though, unconsciously,
I feel it's too big,
too complicated,
to be put in so few lines.
It's not.
And, yet, here I am.
Pages and pages on love
and almost no poems.
Created: Winter/Spring 2011
Last edited: 3 June 2011
Note: Kind of a weird thing that I noticed about myself one day.
Almost all my stories,
almost every single one,
has to do with love.
How some things,
despite what others say,
are more important than it.
How it doesn't always triumph.
How there are different kinds.
How pure it is if it's true.
And yet...
there are almost no poems.
As though, unconsciously,
I feel it's too big,
too complicated,
to be put in so few lines.
It's not.
And, yet, here I am.
Pages and pages on love
and almost no poems.
Created: Winter/Spring 2011
Last edited: 3 June 2011
Note: Kind of a weird thing that I noticed about myself one day.