love is for somebody other

someone with eye blinkers like shutters

somebody else whose skin has never sensed

the crashing of all its pores

the closure of all of the doors

the suffocation of knowing

now that loves snuck in

only he has the keys

and he licks at the taste of their metals

Never had to question 

the ideas come to mind

all rose tinted

and made with the knowledge,

someones got your behind

other lovers do not feel this

constant gnawing at the edges of their bliss

blissful ignorance and the missing obviousness of signs

the alerts

danger is here

trust, a companion of fear

love does not rot the scaffolds away

does not leer 

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."(1 Corinthians 13)

That was a letter to the Corinthians 13 and that has nothing to do with me either.

Love is meant for others

patience adheres me not but flies off

ravage in a temper and is sick of trying

i have nothing to be proud of in the face of love and its mirror

love is for those who can raise their pale faces to the sunlight knowing only the glow of their freckles

their love does not seek to heckle our sun

and i can write and write and move the mountains in my path but i am still nothing, for my loves have all thought it a laugh, that which i give up and wreck it with facts that they like to live in the dark and make pacts with their injuries.

when i was a child, i loved in childish ways 

today it seems childish games are the best to expect from a childish regime

love is not meant for the likes of me

who read the bible and quote it still like a hummingbee,

and like a clanging bell i sound in hall full of echo

full of nothing

full of numb resounding with dumb acceptance

that i make too much noise

and love was meant for the empty, the quieter of types 

the unquestioning and the deaf

every girl who hasn't been ripped up yet.

fuck love at best its an acceptance of somebody else.

 a forgiveness no less

i forgive you love

i forgive you, love