r/lovepoetry

I do not want to love her
for the shape of her body,
or the way the world tells me
she is supposed to look.

I want to know her
by the kindness in her hands,
by the softness in her words,
by the way she remembers the little things
everyone else forgets.

I want to look at her
and see the heart behind her smile,
the girl who gives without keeping count,
who cares even when nobody notices,
who makes ordinary moments
feel like something worth remembering.

I don't want her wondering
if she is beautiful enough for me.
I want her to know
that when she sits beside me,
I am not searching for something better.

I am simply happy
that she is there.

Because one day,
when beauty changes
and the years pass quietly,
I will still remember
the way her heart made a place
feel like home.

And if she ever asks me
what I saw in her,

I will tell her:

“I saw you.
Not a body.
Not a face.
Not a list of things
the world could measure.

Just you.

And somehow,
that was always enough.”

Beautiful Creature, Impressed are you? In being greatly honest, I almost gave in last Friday and disconnected my heart from each of its valves to place it in a box to store it away into the catacombs of the forgotten. Don’t think of me as being overly poetically dramatic. Things were really building up and were getting the best of my emotions. I could not help but let my emotions take over me for the moment I was feeling them.

As strong as I look and portray myself to be; Yes, I do cry heavenly. I felt the strong urge and needed to. I felt a little better after I cried and fell asleep. It has been said that crying is healthy. I’m a person that can usually hold back my tears. But, I think because I am getting more wiser; my emotions have gotten stronger. I even cry when watching certain movies, television shows, and listening to music that’s overly emotionally dramatic that I can’t help the feeling…

Do you cry like I cry?

I could be wrong, but I screened shot a photo profile of another person’s face that looked identical to your’s only difference… is this person put’s their war paint on. I’ve taken notice that you don’t wear any war paint. And that’s fine with me. I love your face. Don’t be bashful to show it off. I look at that picture on the day’s that I don’t see you. Although, I do see you when I look at that picture. It helps me coupe a little. Bear with me that I do feel and hurt.

I just look back and think that if we had kept going like the way we were going before when we only knew that we secretly had feelings for each other. I just wonder from your perspective if you would have continued to talk me face to face? You had distanced your self for a bit completely almost hiding from me. You thought that you were being too up front with the way you felt in my presence. You didn’t want to lose the communication we had progressed to have as well not losing my presence, either.

But now, I hope that we will try to work on talking to each other face to face, again.

I’m actually proud of myself for initiating that I have feelings for you. I am happy that I communicated back with the few small gestures that I gave to you in order to acknowledge your subtle hinted gestures. Really…No time could be better for us. Acting on what we feel is perfect instead of going silent and standing still for all the wrong reasons.

I’d rather that we both be on an understanding that we have LOVE for each other than the thought being “Lost in Space.” To Be Continued… -DK

I ache for you,
in the quiet of the night,
in every breath,
in every thought.

I want your kiss,
your hands,
your closeness,
your touch.

But more than anything,
I want YOU!

I want your heart,
your soul with mine,
your promise of always,
your commitment of forever.

I ache for you,
loving you quietly,
loving you passionately,
loving you completely.

You do something to me,

Not physically, not sexually,

I've never needed anyone.

It's deep beneath the surface,

This thing you make me feel,

Like how the flowers need the Sun.

Humans search for truth,
even when it breaks them.

For a broken heart
is still better than an empty one—

for the cracks carved by truth
are always shallower
than the void born from silence.

That is why rejection,
however cruel it may seem,
is kinder than silence.

Rejection allows a man to bleed.
It grants him the dignity of pain—
the freedom to let sorrow spill—
onto the ground,
onto paper,
into tears.

But silence denies him even that mercy.

In silence, the soul clings
to the faintest flicker of hope.

Uncertainty does not wound—
it lingers.

It shapes illusions from nothing,
and each time the heart reaches for them,
it is cut—

never deep enough
to end the suffering,
only enough
to begin it again.

Truth liberates.

But uncertainty binds—
with threads so soft
they feel like hope,
yet strong enough
to hold a soul in place.

Rejection lets him fall—

lets him strike the earth,
break beneath the truth,
and gather
what remains of himself.

But silence leaves him
suspended between earth and sky—

neither allowed
to fall and heal,

nor to rise
toward what he longs for.

So—
end this quiet cruelty
with a truth sharp enough
to sever hope.

Let me bleed.
Let me write what remains of you within me.

My blood will clot into your name—

not to curse it,
nor to stain the colour of your eyes,

but to preserve you
in words
even a lifetime cannot erode.

And perhaps, one day,
these words will leave others envious
of a tragedy they never lived—

yearning for a single glimpse of you,
though to them
you could only ever remain
an imagined ache.

But you—

you would have been real in mine.

So end this silence—

for it can belong only
to indifference,

or to a heart unaware
of the quiet power
it holds over another.

Unaware of how deeply
he has become entangled
in the strands of her hair;

how he envies
even the smallest speck of dust
that dares to rest upon her lashes—

closer than he has ever been
to the place
where he longs to disappear.

A place where he would remain,
willingly imprisoned
for eternity—

within her eyes.

A fate so beautiful,
so tragic,
that even the gods
have never known it.

For her eyes
are the only mirror
in which he has ever loved
his own reflection.

~Writer’s Note: I have always wondered which is crueler—a painful answer, or no answer at all.

Rejection breaks something, but at least it gives the broken pieces somewhere to fall. Silence leaves them suspended, held together by that smallest and perhaps cruelest thing: maybe.

This poem was born from that thought—the strange mercy of being given a truth painful enough to finally grieve, rather than a hope too uncertain to ever let go of.

And perhaps that is all rejection really offers:

not freedom from pain,

but permission
to begin healing.

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Her past

A child's quiet gaze,

A bond of friendship through a haze.

She told him that she needed him

But she never told him just what for.

And time, like a river without bends

Would flow over his feet once more.

Some nights she'd call

As if nothing had changed.

Her voice as soft as candlelight,

Burning with no promise

Just a warmth he could never hold.

She never meant to lie -

But the truth she carried

Was too heavy to sit down.

So she left it

Right next to the place

She had carved into his heart.

He waited - not out of patience,

But because letting go

Felt like tearing pages

From a book that had no end.

They said love was kind

But he saw it as unsure-

Timid, like a deer

The steps forward

Then bolts like a bullet

At the sound of its own heart.

He built no altar;

Only kept the lights low

And the door unlocked

Not because he believed she would come

But because

He didn't know how to lock it.

There's a burden in that kind of waiting

A soft constant pulling

Like gravity,

But lonelier.

And the world moved on

Like it always does;

He stayed,

Because someone had to bear

What both of them were too afraid to name.

Castle of the Heart - By Joel Barb - Castle of the Heart writes@yahoo

Fool—
yes, a fool is what I am—

a fool who dares to bind you with words,
who attempts to define
a person, a soul
so vast, so divine,

that even if I gathered
every word
from every language—known or forgotten—
I would still fall short
the moment I begin
to speak of you.

And yet, I try—
to engrave even a fragment,
to trace the faintest silhouette of you
within the hearts of those who read—

just enough
to make them envious,
to let the world know
that angels do descend upon the earth—

but the one I met
did not remain in the heavens,
nor upon the earth.

She was kind enough
to stumble upon someone like me—

and somehow,
found her way into my heart,
only to find herself tangled
within my soul.

Her eyes—
vast enough
to fall into by accident,
yet deep enough
that before one ever thought of leaving,
they might forget
there was a world
beyond them.

Her curls,
like dark vines,
winding softly around my heart—

bars of brown—
strong enough to bind a soul for eternity,
yet fragile enough
to tremble at a passing breeze.

She—
who dreams of wandering through France,
quietly in love with the mountains,
pausing for cats and butterflies—

clumsy, forgetful—
losing her thoughts mid-sentence,
always a little late—
just like me—

laughing at things
no one else seems to notice.

And somehow,
that makes her
more and more impossible to define—

for I am only a reader,
lost between her pages—

how could I ever claim
to know a story
when I lost myself
within its very first chapter?

So tell me—
will you let me remain
within your pages,
just long enough
to learn a little more of you?

~Writer’s Note: Perhaps the greatest foolishness in loving someone is believing we could ever completely put them into words. The more we learn—their dreams, their little habits, their imperfections, the things that make them laugh—the more we realize how much of them remains unread.

This poem is about that realization: beginning with the arrogance of trying to define someone, only to discover that a person is not something to be finished or understood all at once, but an endless story—one in which I somehow managed to lose myself within the very first chapter.

And perhaps I no longer wish to reach the final page.

Perhaps being allowed to keep reading is enough.

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I struggled to look her in the eyes..

They were big, brown and undeniably

persuasive.

Even just one glance sends me into a deep

hypnotic and unforgiving trance.

The shiny but promising glimpse in her

beautiful eyes sang sweet lullabies to my

feigning soul.

I indulged heavily in this angelic song, as

each tune precariously danced through my

vacant mind and out my beating heart.

Her gaze will forever be embedded into my

daydreams...

Let my lips kiss you and taste how sweet you are as I curse how good you taste to me.

I let my mouth wander into your valley, just for my tongue to drink and lap from your overflowing well.

Your water is thick like nectar. It coats my lips, leaving them shining with your heavenly dew.

As it trails down my chin, I can't help but give praise to the gods I never knew existed.

Like a man who has wandered the scorching desert for far too long, I drown myself in your secret spring, eliciting a sinful groan and a curse in one breath at how I won't be able to drink from another's well.

You whisper to me, in that breathy, angelic voice, to open the gates of heaven so that both of us can descend into paradise.

You take my breath from me as I plunge into what I think will be my salvation.

Instead, a deep rumbling sound settles through my chest. My eyes flutter, and through gritted teeth, I curse the same gods you made me worship.

Indeed, what they say is true: the path toward heaven is narrow. And with that, I know my soul is eternally condemned, for I shall no longer venture down any path but yours.

Now that you've offered your body to me like a sacrificial lamb, you have awakened the hungry devil within.

You are splayed right before me like a fine feast fit only for the gods to eat. But my hunger is not that of a god, but that of a starved beast.

I shall not partake in a holy banquet, for my plans for you are nothing but unholy and ungodly.

For I shall devour you from the outside in. I will leave my mark all over your flesh as I growl every praise and every curse known to man.

With every bite that I take...

Shhhit...

Oh my fucking God... you feel sooo good...

You fucking made me discover heaven, and in doing so, I willingly damned my heart and soul to you.

Fucking Christ... this is... this is my rapture. My fucking nirvana.

If my ship sank and I was lost at sea,

with little hope for survival as I drifted aimlessly,

when the stars in the night sky became my only company

In those stars I would find your eyes staring back at me,

When all hope was lost, when nothing was going my way,

Your eyes would shine through to brighten my day,

When the food bin was empty and my life raft was running out of supplies,

I would find the courage and strength to sustain myself in the memory of your eyes.

When all hope seemed lost and most would no longer try,

I would keep going just for one more chance to look into your eyes.

In that moment I would beg of life, please don’t deprive me, please don’t be mean

Because your eyes are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

And if I could no longer live no matter how hard I tried,

I couldn’t imagine a better way to die,

then to pass away peacefully with the memory of your eyes.

If I burn the world for you, would you dare to stand against it for me?

If I chased away your nightmares, would you cradle my pain until the land fell asleep?

If I tended to your wounds with trembling hands, would your kiss mend the scars I hide?

If I fight every storm that rises in your name, would you still hold my hand when the sky turns grey?

If I choose you over kingdoms and crowns, would you choose me when the world drags me down?

If the flames of my love turn the heavens red, would you still stay beside me when hope feels dead?

Because loving you was never the danger I feared— it was the silence I dreaded, the moment the whole world stood against me and you were no longer there.

Darling, if I loved you like no other, would you love me the same?

PS: I found this poem online and couldn’t resist sharing—it’s too good.

She is love,

She loves sunsets, oceans, and the mountains in view. The sight of the stars, have her pause for a few. But from the sound of her voice, to the smell of her hair, there's nothing in this world, that could ever compare.

Full of enthusiasm, always impressed. Excitement and wonder, is always expressed. She could teach you to yearn, she does it the best. I swear on my life, coming straight from my chest. I'll love her forever, till my last dying breath. Her passion is priceless, hence she does it the ✨️BEST✨️.

With her, each experience, is always brand new. Just like an angel, an aura, golden in hue. I could go on forever, really, it's true.

She is love. If only you knew.

If you only knew my beautiful creature that I have the same thought’s and fears just as you do. I wish that you would come and see me instead of it always being myself coming to see you. But, I know that you never would.

You long to see me and I come…same place you and me met “where we both stand.” But then, that’s it. I drive 66 miles back home thinking am I wasting my time? Am I putting too much effort to try to gain your affection?

I feel that I have laid out most of my cards on the table for you as much I can. When I made the Reddit account, it was originally to CALL OUT my prior employer because of the careless investigation that was placed upon me that turned on me as a retaliation tactic that caused my separation from my last job. I still was very new to Reddit and all of its functions.

You seem to be much more knowledgeable of this website than me on here that you are able to really hide yourself. I had a feeling that you had an account, so that’s when I gave you my username and other information in the little note that I placed in your hand. That’s when the fear between both of us disclosed.

Reddit was only for us to talk here and there in the possibility that we couldn’t reach one another on each other’s actual phones. But now, that’s how you want to communicate. So, I continue to try. You recently sounded so gloomy and unhopeful of me and us. That’s even if I caught the right message most recently. I don’t know exactly who you are when you send a message out into the universe.

I have only caught the little hints you send in your messages with colors, pictures, and things you say. Again… your messages are never sent directly to me, so I know who you are and I can respond promptly. There are so many other people on this website that are fortunate, misfortuned, misguided, needy, clingy and even sound a little like us it’s insane and drives me MAD. I get so confused and tired of reading the same feeds trying to find YOU.

I shared with you already that I have to wear glasses now in order to see fine print on my phone, computer, IPad, and sometimes driving to help with the blurriness when my eye’s become tired.

I know that there is something that makes you uncomfortable because of it being your first experience. I know what that is and what it’s like. I don’t try to push the envelope to help talk to you about the subject. But, I have been trying to be respectful to you and only let you tell me what you’re comfortable telling me. I could even be totally wrong, but then again I respect you.

I don’t know if it’s for the reason that you have certain friend’s or even family on here that you avoid having contact with me directly. You don’t want to meet me anywhere in the middle to talk to you physically. I threw some idea’s out to you that bit me in my Butt several messages back.

Now, I have just been trying to be careful in what I say in my messages because sometimes I think that you don’t understand and take what you read for something, else. Like I really don’t care and only show up and write back to you at my convenience as like we’re living in a fantasy world like nothing wrong.

Again, I love to be jokeful and happy in my messages. I just have been trying “what I think is right” and “safe” to just get a rise out of you. But, I truly don’t know how you feel when you’re reading my messages. I have read and had it sent into the universe by you responding that my messages don’t add up or match to what I say. So that leaves me confused. I wish that I could just see the expressions on your face.

If only you knew and were in my body on a day to day basis. To be continued… -DK

You were somewhere between a dream and waking

when you answered my call in that little sleepy voice.

Softer than every bird I’ve ever heard sing,

like even the morning would be jealous of it.

I kept asking you things I already knew,

just because I wanted to hear you reply again

the way a father listens to his daughter’s first words,

afraid that if he blinks, he might miss something precious.

And now that voice isn’t here with me,

and somehow the silence hurts more than I expected.

Love is happiness
Love is joy
Love is a smile
But love is painful

The moment you seek love
Is also the moment you seek pain
Learning how to love
Is learning how to be hurt

Like a little rose,
The more you hold it,
The more you will be hurt.
If you hold it tight,
The pain will be bright.

But I’m not afraid,
As long as you’re in my sight.
I shall hold tight,
I will fight,
For my love for you is forever.

I don’t ask for anything,
Even if you look for others.
Just let me love you fully,
‘Cause you’re my everything.

I will remain,
Even if you run.
I will stand,
Even if you choose the other one.

As my tears fall
From my loving eyes,
I will still hold on
And keep my love for you.

Love never asks,
But love always gives.
For love is sacrifice,
For love is holding on and fighting.

In the end,
perhaps I too
am only a poem—

waiting to be read
by you,
waiting to be embraced
not merely by your eyes,
but by the quiet depths
of your heart.

A fragile collection
of feelings and fragments,
simply asking
for a place to stay
within you.

~Writer’s Note: Perhaps writing about someone is another way of asking to be understood by them. This poem is about that final, quiet hope—that after placing so much of yourself into words, the person they were written for might someday read beyond the metaphors, beyond the verses, and find you somewhere within them.

P.S. This is the sixth and final poem in my six-piece collection. With it, the final letter is yours, and the name hidden across these poems is now complete. If you've been following from the beginning, you have everything you need to find her name. I wonder how many of you already have. :)

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And now,
mornings frighten me too—

because every sunrise
arrives only to take
my world,
my you,
away from me once more.

And in those quiet hours,
I find myself wondering—

Why her?

Surely this world
must hold another
with the same brown eyes,
the same curls,
the same smile
capable of softening storms inside me.

And perhaps it does.

But love was never born
of those things alone.

Because if beauty were enough,
then anyone resembling her
should have felt like home too.

Yet no matter how alike they may seem,
none would ever laugh the way she does,
speak my name the way she does,
or turn ordinary nights
into something worth remembering.

And that is when I realize—

I never loved her
for the pieces the world could recreate.

I loved her
for the one thing
it never could.

Her.

Thoughts of her
woven gently
into the velvet of my dreams—

a quiet world
where we are finally allowed
to simply be us.

No voices to judge,
no noise to interrupt,
no cruel morning waiting
to pull us apart again.

Only the soft melody
of her breathing,
moving quietly
with the rhythm of my heart.

A melody so enchanting
even wandering deer
would leave the shelter of the forest
just to follow its gentle pull.

Yet within that sweetness
lived something sharp enough
to wound the heavens themselves,
drawing sorrow from the sky
until it wept silver rain upon the earth.

And beneath those grieving clouds,
the peacocks began to dance,
while nightingales surrendered their voices
to sing beside her melody.

For being allowed
to exist beside her
within such a heavenly scene,

I would gladly become
a night that never reaches dawn.

So tell me—

am I only meant
to meet you
within dreams,

or will you someday
allow me
to wake
and still find you there?

~Writer’s Note: Some dreams hurt not because they are nightmares, but because they are beautiful enough to make waking feel like loss. Velvet of Dreams came from that feeling—the strange longing to remain somewhere unreal simply because, there, someone you love is still beside you. And perhaps the deepest wish isn't to dream forever, but to someday open your eyes and find that you haven't lost them.

P.S. This is the fifth poem in a six-piece collection. Hidden across these six poems is the name of someone very dear to me, with each poem revealing one letter. Five poems in, five letters are now yours. One remains. :)

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Sitting beneath the twinkling sky,

the stars stare down at us
with quiet envy—
resentful of the way
we outshine them together.

Even the North Star seems wounded,
as if those it once guided
through endless dark
have abandoned its light
for ours.

And beneath that peaceful, gleaming sky,
something shifted—

a gentle breeze
drawing stray strands
from her brown curls,
letting them dance beneath the moonlight
with such effortless elegance
it seemed as though
the pitch-black sky itself
was being painted golden-brown
by the graceful strokes of her hair.

A sight so beautiful
one could mistake reality for dreams—
and dreams for heaven itself.

And then she smiled—
and suddenly
the night held two crescent moons.

One above us in the sky,
and one that captured
these wandering eyes of mine.

But the brighter one was mine.

And there,
between stolen breaths
and trembling silence,
she asked me—

“If I were a flower,
which one would I be?”

A question so innocent,
so unbearably adorable,
that even the stars above us
began to fall
in quiet awe.

I closed my eyes
and whispered to the heavens—

“Dear Lord,
if You are truly there,
then I beg You.
Halt the flow of time
for this single moment.

Let me live within it
just a little longer.
Let me understand
how something so beautiful
was ever allowed to exist.

And please—
steady this fragile heart of mine,

for if You do not,
I fear it may burst
from joy,
from awe,
from admiration,
from love.”

Grant me the wisdom
to answer the question she asked—

for I would willingly offer
every fortune,
every fragment of luck,
every joy
my soul could ever know—

my body,
my breath,
my very soul itself—

just to remain here
for one moment longer,

fully alive
within this night,
within her presence,
within this love.

I stilled the frantic horses of my heart,
let my eyes fall into hers—
and slowly drowned within them,
searching through the depths of my soul
for the answer
her smile had already stolen from me.

“Maybe a tulip,
a sunflower,
an orchid,
a moonflower,
a lily—

or perhaps none at all.”

She rested her gentle head
upon my shoulder,
our eyes still hopelessly lost
within one another.

And then she asked—

“Why?”

Such a small question,
yet powerful enough
to send my heart into chaos.

But her eyes,
they were far too deep,
far too knowing,
already pulling the answer
from the hidden corners of my soul
long before my lips
could ever speak it.

So I replied softly—

“An orchid.”

Because they are rare—
beautiful in a way
the world struggles to recreate.

And beneath that beauty,
they carry a quiet strength—
the kind that survives storms
without ever losing grace.

Just like you.

You are the one
who brings a smile to my face
without even trying,
the one who turns
my darkest hours
into something gentler to survive.

You became the gentle thread
holding together
the fragile parts of me
I thought would never heal.

“So yes,
to me,
you are an orchid.”

“But you are a moonflower too.”

Because moonflowers bloom
only within darkness—

and somehow,
you became the one thing
that lets me bloom
within mine.

In the darkest hours of my life,
when even hope felt distant,
your presence became the quiet light
my soul reached for instinctively.

So if the moonflower says,
“I bloom only in darkness,”

then mine would whisper—

“I can only bloom
with you beside me
through mine.”

“And perhaps,
you are a lily too.”

Because lilies seem to whisper—

“I dare you to love me.”

And somehow,
you did.

You loved with a tenderness
that never asked for perfection,

only honesty.

You stayed beside the fragile parts of me
most would have turned away from.

And that is why,
to me,
you could only ever be a lily—

beautiful not merely
for the way you bloom,
but for the courage it takes
to love the way you do.

“A sunflower too.”

Because when the world is bright,
sunflowers face the sun—

but I like to imagine
that when night finally falls,
they turn toward one another,

searching
for traces of light
within each other's silence.

And maybe that is why
you have always felt
so much like home to me.

You are a tulip too.

Soft in the way

peace feels after a long storm,
comforting in the way
a weary heart finds rest.

Gentle. Warm. Familiar—

the kind of presence
that makes the world
feel quieter, kinder.

And perhaps that is why
among all the flowers
my soul could have chosen—

you became
the one I truly loved.

Or perhaps none at all—

for the flowers we love,
we often end up plucking,
and in loving them too closely,
we become the reason
they wither.

So how could I compare
something mortal
to that heavenly beauty of yours,

when even the gentlest metaphors
feel far too fragile
to carry your name?

And just as her lips parted
to answer me—

the alarm beside my bed
tore through the night.

And suddenly,
the stars were only stars again.

~Writer’s Note: Sometimes dreams are cruel not because they frighten us, but because, for a little while, they give us exactly what we’ve always wanted. And when we wake, nothing has really changed—the stars are still there, the night is still beautiful, yet somehow, without that one person beside us, they are only stars again.

P.S. This is the fourth poem in a six-piece collection I’ll be sharing over time. Hidden across these six poems is the name of someone very dear to me. With this poem, you’ve uncovered the fourth letter. I’d love to see if anyone can piece it together as the collection unfolds.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vfpp85/comment/p2jbxox/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vj2a1t/comment/p2jcqin/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

Like how a sea otter finds a special rock, I’d put you in my pocket.

Warm enough to cup your thoughts, tough enough to listen to the bad.
Yet gentle enough to still find your ticklish spots.

The sun‘s rays wrap their arms around us as we float quietly.

When sea otters fall asleep, their fingers interlock. Hand in hand, so as not to drift away from one another.

Caressing your fingertips,
the scent of your wrist.
Watching your eyes open in the morning: your irises could coax a field of sunflowers into bloom.

Sometimes we close our eyes in spring, and awaken in winter.

I couldn’t kiss you with my gaze anymore.
I’ve gone noseblind.
I keep the empty space like a widow.

Winter’s bite left me trapped in my footsteps where we once stood.

The cold ate through the pockets thickness.
Even with the right care, your thoughts kept pouring out.

If only I’d known that there was a hole at the bottom.

Of course it was a blasted butterfly.

I saw its midnight-black wings, sharply speckled with the sun's yellow.

I saw it, and regarded it incredulously. "It's nothing," I told myself. "Nothing". Just a poor creature seeking refuge from the afternoon heat in the garage.

And then, like the chorus of a thousand cataclysms conspiring to return the world to spring, there you were.

Persephone's messenger had heralded your arrival.

There you were, walking towards me, solar beauty forcing me to look away, while the gravity between us pulled my gaze onto you.

That smile, that smile that would make me launch ten thousand ships without hesitation, returns to me. It fills me with an indescribable warmth which chases away the cold tendrils of anxiety that have gripped me since last we met.

But this wasn't the end of my good fortune. That radiant smile was followed by an embrace. What is it like to be held by a goddess of spring, the sun made flesh? I could be the greatest weaver of words who ever walked this earth and I could not do it justice.

But to try...

It was as if time stopped in every other universe to witness this moment in ours. It was as if we were back in the garden, where our souls recognized each other for the first time.

But most of all, it was peace.

The promise of a port to a ship in a hurricane. The warmth of a fire burning in the hearth on a winter night. The safe arms of a lover after a vicious battle.

My love, I now know that spring will return for us again. I know not how, why, or when. And yet, with these words, I call it into being. Come back to me, and let me come back to you.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/YtBnEDZXgE

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/R0WwgfiRZN