how to fall in love
it starts with chiffon blouses and ghost of smiles.
with lingering touches on suited shoulders.
with electric, charged air and palpable excitement.
it metamorphoses into sweatpants and interlaced fingers.
with glittery, superfluous talks that trickle into the next morning.
with specially curated playlists to beat like your heart does.
it grows into tender embraces and blurred thoughts.
with intangible explosions inside you when you're near them.
with dancing and twirling and laughing and smiling
it evolves into showers of kisses and unveiled desire
with casual touches on skin
like hands coming home.
with blankets and sleepovers and safety and comfort
it surmounts to confessions of now and promises of forever
with inseparable lips like knitted sweaters.
with joy and completeness and contentment and eternity
it crumbles into lost contact and struggling whispers
with foreign attempts to regain familiarity that's long gone.
with brimming tears and swallowed words and helplessness
it escalates into slammed doors and cracked shouts
with insatiable fire and a need to burn.
with words flung recklessly and locking doors never to be reopened
it withers into deleted contacts and tears at three am
with an inability to leave the bed and a shattered, irreparably broken heart.
it collapses into crying in bathrooms and bedrooms and kitchens and living rooms and at work and at your mother's house
with brittle, bristling pieces of heart.
it dissipates into dark circles under eyes and a frigid feeling
with questions to them of why and how
and promises to self of never again.
it fades into buried photos in shoeboxes
with intermittent remembrance when linked songs play on the radio
and a steady but unmistakable regeneration of the heart.
it disappears into ghosts of memories
with reignited lights in eyes of rekindled hope
and at last, forgiveness and acceptance.
it returns, like a long lost friend
with blushes creeping into cheeks
and accidental brushes of hands
with anticipation and excitement.
and it's back.
YOU ARE READING
midnight // love poems
Poetryi'm trying to get over you. it should be easy, we never talk. but damn, in my dreams we do. || c o l l e c t i o n o f p o e m s ||
