Love and its victims
The silence that envelops,
Only when peaceful,
When my heart is full enough to sleep,
Filled with the newest memories.
They are sported like new technology,
Not so limited, but loved and invested.
And I do not even dwell if I am loved because it is known.
I love them, and the word,
Love,
Is not used flippantly like those around me.
It is purer than life itself,
And it travels across my body,
Intravenous in the way is swallows me whole.
And there is no word known better to describe my obsession.
Who cares if I may see them everyday,
That their names will always remain on my mind,
All I care is that my heart still beats enough
To see them everyday.
Their laughs, hugs, nervous touches, smiles,
Gazes and dependency, it drives my heart as if
It were laced with nicotine.
Because they make me smile,
Among little in the world that is happy,
They are like pre-made lunches and fresh carnations,
Like sunflowers and washed clothes,
So clean and genuine.
Things I would have taken for granted,
I now cherish every second, because I love them.
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