But it was so easy to love me...
I only had to hear from your lips
a phrase of love,
or have loved me silently
as one loves God
To love me...
It would have been sufficient that you moistened my body,
navigated between my lips and my back,
seen a tiny gesture that would teem my soul,
and as a desired psalm,
love me again and again
until feeling the fire entering the arena of my skin
To love me...
it would have been sufficient to create a minute of your time,
trap me among your restless fingers, from March to the ambrosia of my lips
and as a gift of time...
one more sleepless night feeling you embracing my silence
To love me...
all you needed was to take off the nails
of my crucified heart;
the dimmed night,
the vanished time in bed,
your hurtful words,
the nonexistent kisses
Without you my days die in agony,
talking to myself,
gradually saying farewell to the Aurora
What good is love
when it is full of loneliness,
of hard winter roads,
of aging appointments?;
and my life became anguish
and anguish an abyss of what never was
Your love filled with me with forgetfulness,
filled me with lies, disaffection;
even sliced through the veil of my heart
I’ll cry only one tear, because loving you from afar is my conviction...
But it was so easy to love me...
© Noris Roberts
Jackie Phillips
Sat 24th Jan 2015 03:47
Like the poem but disagree with your idea of love. Love is the hard words, the honesty of what a person truly is. The hurt. The lies. Yet still loving, fogiving without forgetting.