The problem of Love
Written on 1:03 AM by Unknown
The problem of Love is that it has no edges
and it’s hard to tell when it starts or ends,
it’s difficult to tell when you became deeply in it
and surprisingly (and numbingly), it’s even harder to tell
when it left.
Love also has its own intentions, it’s very
difficult to force out, it can be a stain
in your eye taunting you and blinding you,
it can be the stickiest of gunk stuck in between
your teeth.
Smile and try to say hello,
everyones going to see it.
People feel that they know Love but really,
that sensation is because Love knows them,
it’s like being watched on a lonely street,
or if you’re lucky, it’s the embrace
of the warm beads of water in the shower.
It warms down your neck
and alerts the little invisible hairs
of its presence.
Love has dangerous heights—and
with the heights, there are painful landings,
this is very tempting for the little risk taker
hiding in all of us but know the fearful ones look on
with jealously, and after the fall, they nod,
as if they knew. But they don’t know.
The problem of Love is that it attempts
to draw us in to places beyond ethics,
wrong is right, right is wrong,
it turns the horrible things to good,
and sometimes, the best of things
into the worst of things.
But it’s okay. The problems of Love remind us,
remind us when we’re standing at the bus stop
wondering, Would she like me better if I was in my car
or should I pretend like I care about the environment,
and that girl does that walk right past you,
the world slows to an amber still
as she turns her head the perfect angle
her sight meets your gaze and her sight
turns into a lock just like yours.
You’ll forget about all the problems of Love and
you’ll say,
You know, I write a lot of poems about the problem of Love,
but Love, I guess I haven’t met you yet.
