I Love You Poems Quotes & Sayings

You and I
will be
lost and found
a thousand times
along this
cobbled
road of us. — Atticus Poetry

I will follow you,
my love,
to the edge of all our days,
to our very last
tomorrows. — Atticus Poetry

I mean you ask me
not to fall in love with you
and then you go write poems
with your tongue
and draw constellations
in my freckles. — Clementine Von Radics

Tomorrow I shall write something beautiful, something so serene
that storms will rise suddenly and protest with ferocious screams.
I shall write poems for the poets and for the songster a single song
That will tell a tale of such beauty the heart of earth shall moan.
But today, today shall be special for all I will do
is sit quietly alone and think of you and think of you. — Tonny K. Brown

[John Clare's] father was a casual farm labourer, his family never more than a few days' wages from the poorhouse. Clare himself, from early childhood, scraped a living in the fields. He was schooled capriciously, and only until the age of 12, but from his first bare contact fell wildly in love with the written word. His early poems are remarkable not only for the way in which everything he sees flares into life, but also for his ability to pour his mingled thoughts and observations on to the page as they occur, allowing you, as perhaps no other poet has done, to watch the world from inside his head. Read The Nightingale's Nest, one of the finest poems in the English language, and you will see what I mean.
("John Clare, poet of the environmental crisis 200 years ago" in The Guardian.) — George Monbiot

every choice i have ever made after you existed
has been dependent on exactly
how close i can have you next to me
and how long i can get you to stay. — AVA.

Intoxicating perfumes, musky body scents mingle... blindfolding you, I orchestrate my symphony. — Avijeet Das

In that wounded place,
buried between
my ribs and letting go,
I miss you. — Jessica Kristie

Girls, be good to these spirits of music and poetry
that breast your threshold with their scented gifts.
Lift the lyre, clear and sweet, they leave with you.
As for me, this body is now so arthritic
I cannot play, hardly even hold the instrument.
Can you believe my white hair was once black?
And oh, the soul grows heavy with the body.
Complaining knee-joints creak at every move.
To think I danced as delicate as a deer!
Some gloomy poems came from these thoughts:
useless: we are all born to lose life,
and what is worse, girls, to lose youth.
The legend of the goddess of the dawn
I'm sure you know: how rosy Eos
madly in love with gorgeous young Tithonus
swept him like booty to her hiding-place
but then forgot he would grow old and grey
while she in despair pursued her immortal way. — Sappho

I heard the breeze whisper your name to the trees. And the flowers giggled smiling at the leaves. I and my loneliness keep talking about you. — Avijeet Das

Beloved, Dearest One:
How I long to shout to the world our happiness. I feel that you and I are the only two people alive in the world - the only people that know the secret meaning of existence.
I have no diamond rings, no gifts of love that other lovers have for their beloved. My poetry is all I have to offer you. And so I dedicate my collected verses, 'Poems of Poverty,' to you, beloved.
Morris. — Anzia Yezierska

I was born one thousand times and all the while it was you I met again to only meet again under the thousand stars that divide us and connect us. — Christina Strigas

i wanted to destroy you.

you are mine to ruin.
something so beautiful
should only exist for me. — AVA.

Thinking of you is a poison I drink often. — Atticus Poetry

let me tell you i'm in love with you. let me tell you that the first thing i do when i wake is think of you. let me be completely honest about this-- about what you mean to me.
let me take it there without ruining everything. — AVA.

Of course one's sense of identification with the nation is inflected by all kinds of particulars, including one's class, race, gender, and sexual identification. ... But [regarding] national character ... , aside from references to a national aesthetic - literary, musical, and choreographic, there are two poles I reference: minimalist and maximalist. I love them both - the cryptic poems of Emily Dickinson folded up in tiny packets and hidden away in a box, the sparse, understated choreographies of Merce; but also the "trashy, profane and obscene" poems of Whitman and Ginsberg, [and] Martha Graham's expressionism. I am, myself, a minimalist. But I love distortion guitar and the wild exhibitionism of so many American artists. Also, these divisions are false. Emily Dickinson, in fact, can be as trashy and obscene as the best of them! Anyway, Dickinson and Whitman are at the heart of this narrative. They are the Dancing Queen and the Guitar Hero. — Barbara Browning

No, life cannot be understood flat on a page. It has to be lived; a person has to get out of his head, has to fall in love, has to memorize poems, has to jump off bridges into rivers, has to stand in an empty desert and whisper sonnets under his breath ... We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it? -Donald Miller,Through Painted Deserts — Donald Miller

Through windows,
in wishing wells,
whispering in the wind...
that's where I find you. — Jessica Kristie

I love you," he writes again and again. "I can't bear to live without you. I'm counting the minutes until I see you." The words he uses are the idioms of popular songs and poems in the newspaper. And mine to him are no less cliched. I puzzle over the onionskin, trying to spill my heart onto the page. But I can only come up with the same words, in the same order, and hope the depth of feeling beneath them gives them weight and substance. I love you. I miss you. Be careful. Be safe. — Christina Baker Kline

I bleed to un-break you,
un-mending me.
I fall to save you...
now who will save me. — Jessica Kristie

I can't love anymore.
Except for you...
I love you so much it hurts to breathe. — Jessica Kristie

I'm not lookin' for someone who can save me. Life rafts might keep you afloat but they rarely get you anywhere and I've got places I wanna go. So break me in two, peel back my rib cage and cover every page of my heart with love poems you will burn someday. — Andrea Gibson

What I want to know is how you go on when you look around
and don't see anywhere you want to go without the only person
you can't have. — Charlotte Eriksson

I have lost you, my brother
And your death has ended
The spring season
Of my happiness,
our house is buried with you
And buried the laughter that you taught me.
There are no thoughts of love nor of poems
In my head
Since you died. — Catullus

I do not just want you at your best.
I almost do not care
where your Happiness lives,
but please,
let me visit your pain?

Take me to the place
where your sadness goes,
and show me the tragedy
that no one knows. — Meraaqi

Raindrops fall from clouds of gray.
The fragile flowers grow.
Teardrops seem all I can say.
They speak of endless woe.
Your fingers wipe my grief away.
A seed of love you sow.
A hardened heart reverts to clay.
You mold my love just so. — Richelle E. Goodrich

It is the unspecified 'you' of modern love poems that I am mostly concerned with here. At least, the addressee is commonly a lover, and the very fact that the name is withheld is offered as a guarantee of the closeness and significance of the relationship. — John Fuller

I didn't leave early that morning. I waited for him to wake up and kiss me good morning. He said he was going to take a shower and I should come join him. I thought now was as good of a time as any and placed the ring on his corner table with my note.

It read:
My Love, I don't know how you will accept my decision. I do love you with all my heart but you are not my first love. I am always going to be infatuated with my love for the sea. Accept my proposal after I have completed my education, claim my heart for thy own & obtain thy love in which it possesses.
With all My Love, Zara

-emerald eyes of the sea — Hazel Cartwright

When I am dead, even then,
I will still love you, I will wait in these poems,
When I am dead, even then
I am still listening to you. — Muriel Rukeyser

I know not what it is about you that makes me go crazy but I do know that the radiance in your eyes is more dazzling than that in all the diamonds of this world! — Avijeet Das

I have seen your
darkest nights
and brightest days
and I want you to know
that I will be here
forever
loving you
in dusk. — Atticus Poetry

i open for you like a flower.
i let you in like a new day. — AVA.

So while I drove my little and planned his fantasy night of how I was going to give Otter the key to my soul (his words, not mine), I silently panicked and wrote lines of bad poetry. Normally, I am quite adept at writing poems and lyrics to songs I'l never sing, but this stuff was just atrocious. For example:
I love you
You love me
Thank God for that
I'm so happy
And Ty's personal favorite (which he helped me on):
Otter! Otter! Otter!
Don't lead cows to slaughter
I love you and I know
I should've told you soon-a
But you didn't buy the dolphin-safe tuna!
TY asked me if I got the hidden message in his poem. I told him it was loud and clear. — T.J. Klune

I might say things to piss you off, but that's just to piss you off. You know I love you, I'll just never love you the way you need to be loved. I'll love you in a way that's easy for me, I hope you adapt even though your feelings are getting deeper and I'm stuck in my ways. I almost changed but you caved in too soon now I'm back to my ways. "Wrong Love" from Crucified for 33 Thoughts — Jackson Saint-Louis

I can't help but notice that you keep writing love poetry to my wife. Well, you see, I married her, which makes her my wife. You know what you might want to try? Writing some poems about the sunset. The sunset isn't fucking married. — A. J. Jacobs

Peter Conners stunning prose poems are packed with keen sensitivity, dreaminess, and wit. I love his time travels, the vibrant layering of image and detail. Try taking walks as you are reading this book- the dazzle of landscapes, inner and outer, feel replenished and rich. This is language and vision I want to come home to again and again. — Naomi Shihab Nye

If God could transcribe my heart, it'd still read "I love you". — Jenim Dibie

Writing the poems, I came to think that regarding is a form of love, but the regarding is not necessarily accurate. In the poems, people are always misperceiving one another. But misperceptions are a part of being alive to others. You don't need truth or beauty. All you do is perceive. That's all you need to have loved and lived fully. — Joy Katz

He was not such a special person. He loved to read very much, and also to write. He was a poet, and he exhibited me many of his poems. I remember many of them. They were silly, you could say, and about love. He was always in his room writing those things, and never with people. I used to tell him, What good is all that love doing on paper? I said, Let love write on you for a little. But he was so stubborn. Or perhaps he was only timid. — Jonathan Safran Foer

When I was a boy, I choked on a piece of candy outside the kitchen window for a few minutes while watching my parents making dinner. I thought I was going to die, but I didn't want to scare them. Our existence was so separate, a dying and a doing well, an outside and an inside. Trey Moody's poems hover in that cold, wet, refrigerator-lit place between the dying and the doing well, the outside and the inside. His poems are the thoughts of the person you love who is always standing behind you, slowly and silently suffocating. But they're not afraid to say hello, and please, and I'm scared. — Zachary Schomburg

You must be kidding." She says, "Having the power of life and death isn't enough. You
must wonder what other poems are in that book."
Hitting me as fast as a hiccup, me resting my weight on my good foot, just staring at her, I say no.
She says, "Maybe you can live forever."
And I say no.
And she says, "Maybe you can make anyone love you."
No.
And she says, "Maybe you can turn straw into gold."
And I say no and turn on my heel.
"Maybe you could bring about world peace," she says. — Chuck Palahniuk

I thought leaving you would be easy,
just walking out the door
but I keep getting pinned against it
with my legs around your waist and it's like
my lips want you like my lungs want air,
it's just what they where born to do so
I am sitting at work thinking of you
cutting vegetables in my kitchen
your hair in my shower drain
your fingers on my spine in the morning
while we listen to Muddy Waters, I know
you will never be the one I call home
but the way you talk about poems
like marxists talk of revolution
it makes me want to keep trying.
I'm still looking for reasons to love you.
I'm still looking for proof you love me. — Clementine Von Radics

I write less about alcohol, less and less and less. You 're an addict - so of course you write about the thing you love most. I loved alcohol the most, loved it more than anybody or anything. That's what I wrote about. And it certainly accounted for some great writing. But it accounted for two or three years of good writing - it would never account for 20 years of good writing. I would have turned into Charles Bukowski. He wrote 10,000 poems and 10 of them were great. — Sherman Alexie

Sometimes I Do In your light I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. You dance inside my chest, where no one sees you, but sometimes I do, and that light becomes this art. — Rumi

I never told you
How I longed to kiss away your every bruise
until there was no evidence
No ghosts of your own suffering
To put your pieces back together
Seal the cracks
Vanish them like they never were
And never, ever
Leave a scar"

"I never told you
I would take your pain if I could
I would drink it down
And take my comfort
In making you ache a little less
For a little while
Did I?
I'll never know because I never told you that I loved you — Emma Scott

I'll let you into my heart
but wipe your feet at the door. — Atticus Poetry

I want a marriage of companions - one of shared lives and shared poems,' he murmured. 'If we were husband and wife, we would collect books, read, and drink tea together. As I told you before, I'd want you for what's in here.'
Again he pointed to my heart, but I felt it in a place far lower in my body. — Lisa See

How envious I am that the sun may kiss your porcelain skin and forever change how the world sees you. — Phar West Nagle

When my female friends are left
By horrid spouses and lovers,
I commiserate. I send gifts-
Powwow songs and poems- and wonder
Why my gorgeous friends cannot find
Someone who knows them as I do.
Is the whole world dead and blind?
I tell my friends, "I'd marry you
Tomorrow." I think I'm engaged
To thirty-six women, my harem:
Platonic, bookish, and enraged.
I love them! But it would scare them-
No, of course, they already know
That I can be just one more boy,
A toy warrior who explodes
Into silence and warpaths with joy. — Sherman Alexie

Mister Cameron - I have read the unexpurgated Ovid, the love poems of Sappho, the Decameron in the original, and a great many texts in Greek and Latin histories that were not though fit for proper gentlemen to read, much less proper ladies. I know in precise detail what Caligula did to, and with, his sisters, and I can quote it to you in Latin or in my own translation if you wish. I am interested in historical truth, and truth in history is often unpleasant and distasteful to those of fine sensibility. I frankly doubt that you will produce anything to shock me. — Mercedes Lackey

I love poetry; it's my primary literary interest, and I suppose the kind of reading you do when you are reading poems - close reading - can carry over into how you read other things. — Jonathan Galassi

i know it all ends the same,
but i was interested in seeing
how you would break my heart. — AVA.

Leaves will fall, cold will creep in
A circle of life that ends where it begins
It may take a thousand years and a thousand poems penned
But my hair will someday gray and my back will bend
Then my shadow will join my body in the earth once again.
I know not the way, or even the when
Or who chooses that day we're called away to ascend
But you bathed me in your bravery and forgave me my sins
You made a home in your heart for mine to live in
And in return, my friend, this poem is my oath that a river of love will run through it until the very end. — Ryan Winfield

She blushed and I smiled when we saw the Magpie look at us while we kissed below the Acacia tree! — Avijeet Das

everything i know about love
is that it hurts
and is almost always never returned
the way you want it to.

but i have hope
because i do not know everything. — AVA.

I wonder why we always deny love. I remember in middle school, if you were accused of the crime of loving, you screamed denials constantly and stopped ever even looking at the boy you were accused of liking. The boys could destroy each other by yodeling, "An-drew lo-oves Jen-nie," and both Andrew and Jennie would flinch and blush. Love is this great thing that most songs and books and poems and lives are all about. So the minute we actually think there might be love around, we start laughing and pretending and hiding from it. — Caroline B. Cooney

I am really colored & really sad sometimes & you hurt me
more than i ever danced outta/ i am ready to die like a lily in the
desert/ & i cdnt let you in on it cuz i didnt know/ here
is what i have/ poems/ big thighs/ lil tits/ &
so much love/ will you take it from me this one time/
please this is for you — Ntozake Shange

When you would be looking somewhere maybe standing near a window and looking outside, I will come slowly towards you. And first I will inhale your sublime fragrance that emanates from your soft and tender body. Then slowly inching towards you I would hug you from behind and take you in my arms. — Avijeet Das

The skies bend, the time stops, the lanes move and the fires dance,
It can mean only one thing that I am with you.
You are enigmatic yet so beautiful that I have lost my sense,
You are as immaculate as the unadulterated morning dew
And your beauty leaves me in a mystified trance.
I do not foresee what you and I will be
But I promise to be with you till the rocks keep meeting the sea. — Faraaz Kazi

Well, Thanksgiving we'll all gather at my house for dinner and we usually do Christmas at Beau's house. My mom is still feisty and kicking. She's 92. I saw her last night and she published a book at 90. It's a wonderful book called "You Caught Me Kissing" and it's basically love-poems that she wrote for my dad. It's more than that, it's a wonderful book. — Jeff Bridges

In the meantime, there are all my books ... "
I'd seen his books. Almost all of them had been written before his birth, which had been more than a century and a half before mine. Many of them were books of love poems. He'd tried to read to me from one of them the night before, in order to cheer me up.
It hadn't worked.
I thought it more polite to say "Thank you, John," than "Do you have any books that aren't about love? And young couples expressing that love? Because I do not need encouragement in that direction right now."
"And you have this whole castle to explore," he said, an eager light in his eyes. "The gardens are beautiful ... — Meg Cabot

And the truth is that I'm not, Ed, is what I wanted to tell you. I'm not arty like everyone says who doesn't know me, I don't paint, I can't draw, I play no instrument, I can't sing. I'm not in plays, I wanted to say, I don't write poems. I can't dance except tipsy at dances. I'm not athletic, I'm not a goth or a cheerleader, I'm not treasurer or co-captain. I'm not gay and out and proud, I'm not that kid from Sri Lanka, not a triplet, a prep, a drunk, a genius, a hippie, a Christian, a slut, not even one of those super-Jewish girls with a yarmulke gang wishing everyone a happy Sukkoth. I'm not anything, this is what I realized ... I like movies, everyone knows I do
I love them
but I will never be in charge of one because my ideas are stupid and wrong in my head. There's nothing different about that, nothing fascinating, interesting, worth looking at. — Daniel Handler

You wouldn't think the touch of someone's hand could blow your mind. It's nothing, right? People don't right songs and poems about holding hands - they write them about kisses and sex and eternal love. I mean, when you're a little kid you hold hands with your parents to cross the street. Who's going to write an ode to that?
We were alone in the dark, even though the enormous theater was filled with probably a thousand people. We were a tiny island in a sea of other people who didn't matter, who had no meaning, who were so stupid, so oblivious, so stuck in their own boring lives that they didn't even notice the huge, momentous, life-shattering event that was taking place right there in row L, between seats 102 and 104.
Derek Edwards was holding my hand. — Claire LaZebnik

A Paradise for you and me
Trust, true love to guide us free
Loneliness shall not fill the day
I will forever be with you
Our Love is beautiful like the sunshine lighting the way
Your gentle feel
Your caring hands
There is no doubt in your soul
No eerie place in your heart to express this feeling
Our compassion flows in the waves just to save and brighten my day My heart has no hoes Awaiting your pace
to touch this place
Our love, withstanding all odds Diminishing hate, in our thoughts There is no place I rather be til eternity... Than in your soul, life and in your dreams... I am here to stay with you forever. — Henry Johnson Jr

THEN

When I am dead, even then,
I will still love you, I will wait in these poems,
When I am dead, even then
I am still listening to you.
I will still be making poems for you
out of silence;
silence will be falling into that silence,
it is building music. — Muriel Rukeyser

First you shoot me," he muttered. "Now you're handin' me your damn club and spoutin' love poems." "She was sixteen, motherfucker, you woulda shot you." "No, asshole, I woulda killed me." At that, Preacher just kept grinning. Jesus, was he in the twilight zone? — Madeline Sheehan

CALL YOURSELF

Look deep in the mirror
And say: 'I LOVE YOU'
And immediately
An electric current will
Ripple throughout your soul
And burst through your eyes
Like shooting stars
Dancing across the skies
In ecstasy.
To tell your soul you love it -
Is like remembering
WHO YOU ARE
After being in a coma
For a hundred years.
Your face will beam the light
Of a hundred galaxies. — Suzy Kassem

I loved them in the way one loves at any age - if it's real at all - obsessively, painfully, with wild exaltation, with guilt, with conflict; I wrote poems to and about them; I put them into novels (disguised of course); I brooded upon why they were as they were, so often maddening, don't you know? I wrote them ridiculous letters. I lived with their faces. I knew their every gesture by heart. I stalked them like wild animals. I studied them as if they were maps of the world - and in a way, I suppose they were." She had spoken rapidly, on the defensive ... if he thought she didn't know what she was talking about! "Love opens the doors into everything, as far as I can see, including and perhaps most of all, the door into one's own secret, and often terrible and frightening, real self. — May Sarton

To me, writing is a matter of voice. I think like that. The expression I sometimes use to myself is 'actual song.' That what I do is somewhere on the line between speaking to you as I am now and actual song. And the things I love when I say one of those poems to myself - it's a little bit like singing, it's a little bit like speaking. — Robert Pinsky

I hope you all find yourselves sleeping with someone you love, maybe not all of the time, but a lot of the time. The touch of a foot in the night is sincere. I hope you like your work, I hope there's mystery and poetry in your life - not even poems, but patterns. I hope you can see them. Often these patterns will wake you up, and you will know that you are alive, again and again. — Eileen Myles

I hate and love. And why, perhaps you'll ask.
I don't know: but I feel, and I'm tormented. — Catullus

I read a book once - about love that was developed and love that just is," I paused. "And when I read the part about love that just is I scoffed. I knew better. I knew that it was merely words written by some shallow man that wanted to say what he had to say. And then I met you. And I now, Kelli, know what it is that books are written about. I know what people write poems about, I know what it feels like to know, and I do mean know what it feels like to be certain that someone loves you unconditionally. Love that just is, — Scott Hildreth

Ah men, why do you want all this attention? I can write poems for myself, make love to a doorknob if absolutely necessary. What do you have to offer me I can't find otherwise except humiliation? Which I no longer need. — Margaret Atwood

a billion brains may coax undeath
from fancied fact and spaceful time--
no heart can leap, no soul can breathe
but by the sizeless truth of a dream
whose sleep is the sky and the earth and the sea
For love are in you am in i are in we — E. E. Cummings

Now I am going to reveal to you something which is very pure, a totally white thought. It is always in my heart; it blooms at each of my steps ... The Dance is love, it is only love, it alone, and that is enough ... I, then, it is amorously that I dance: to poems, to music but now I would like to no longer dance to anything but the rhythm of my soul. — Isadora Duncan

I am often asked what keeps me going after all these years. I think it is the realization that there is no final struggle. Whether you win or lose, each struggle brings forth new contradictions, new and more challenging questions. As Alice Walker put it in one of my favorite poems: I must love the questions themselves as Rilke said like locked rooms full of treasures to which my blind and groping key does not yet fit.1 — Grace Lee Boggs

i am not a jealous person,
but when i am with you,
the thought of someone else
pulling your attention away from me
kills me a little inside
each time. — AVA.

So I'll be your queen if you'll be my king,
My knight to defend my claimed heart.
I need no crown, just your last name and a ring
And the promise you'll never depart. — Phar West Nagle

In a season like this,
I wouldn't be held by the snow.
With all these feelings of bliss,
I've to put aside my ego
And step out to let you know,
With you, I'm well pleased
And the love you show,
Is to me the bee's knees. — Emmanuel Aghado

i want so much to touch you
where my hands cannot. — AVA.

For you
i have saved poems
under my skin. — Sanober Khan

I took her to bed with silk and song
'Lay still, my love, I won't be long,
I must prepare my body for passion.'
'O, your body you give, but all else you ration ... — Roman Payne

I see that you are heartlessly clever.
For you know how to Love,
but not Forever.

You still return to me in flashes,
so strong it clouds my Mind.
The fire has turned to ashes,
and yet, you're not behind. — Meraaqi

I just need you and some sunsets. — Atticus Poetry

i smile. things taken for granted have a way of catching you offguard when you least expect it, and then you're taken by what the portuguese calls saudade, a sense of longing for something, someone not there anymore. — Yeow Kai Chai

I write love poems when I'm not rapping. It comes naturally." He winked at me.
"If you start rapping, I promise you I'll throw myself off this platform. — Kristen Day

I loved you for a thousand years and missed you in all of them. — Christina Strigas

I want you to judge me without thinking about it.
I want you to give me advice without considering my opinion.
I want you to expecting anything without the need to trust me.
I want you to decide for me with all the care in the world.
I want you to help me without smothering me.
I want you to decide without seeing my point of view.
I want you to hug me without holding me...
I want you to feel protected in my presence without me having to lie.
I want you to be close without suffocating me.
I want you to know everything without knowing anything...
I want you to know that both love and friendship should always be Unconditional. — Stefan Dimov

I balance you
on the end of my pen.
Teetering between love
and letting go. — Jessica Kristie

Words
I ONCE HEARD A MAN SAY OR WAS IT SOMEWHERE I READ, OR MAYBE SOMETHING I WROTE A THOUSAND TIMES IN MY MIND. YOU GOT TO FIND YOUR OWN MEANING IN THIS WORLD. NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU CHANGED, YOU STILL HAVE TO PAY THE PRICE FOR THE THINGS YOU HAVE DONE. AS I CONTINUE ON MY JOURNEY OR WHAT SOME CALL THE LONG ROAD OF LIFE I KNOW I WILL REMEMBER THAT SPECIAL YOU.
KNOWING I WILL SEE YOU FOREVER IN MY DREAMS IN THIS WORLD OR THE NEXT. — Don S. McClure

You hid in my ink and guided my hand. You stained the pages with your silence as God wrote the words, "Be still." Yet, my heart's blindness could only write in loud hues of red, "I love you. — Shannon L. Alder

In your light I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. You dance inside my chest where no-one sees you, but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art. — Jalaluddin Rumi

And I laugh and I spin and dance and frolic in ecstasy and I ... I hurt no more, while you ... you petrified little man, are left to wonder if it's you I speak of. — Kellie Elmore

I knew I loved you
when 'home' went from being a place
to being a person. — Eric Micha'el Leventhal

I think if you put something in a file that says "war poems" or "love poems" that you already restrict the way in which the poem might move. — Rita Dove

You ask
if I will write a poem
I could,
I suppose
write the most
splendiferous
one of all

but not
right
now
not when

your hands
are brewing
warm
cinnamon tea
across my skin

not when I'm
trying to imagine
what might happen
if you began
flowering
kisses
upon
me

My dear,
how can
I write
a poem
when I'm already
inside one? — Sanober Khan

The Mania Speaks


You clumsy bootlegger. Little daffodil.
I watered you with an ocean and you plucked one little vein?
Downed a couple bottles of pills and got yourself carted off to the ER?
I gifted you the will of gunpowder, a matchstick tongue, and all you managed
was a shredded sweater and a police warning?
You should be legend by now.
Girl in an orange jumpsuit, a headline.
I built you from the purest napalm, fed you wine and bourbon.
Preened you in the dark, hammered lullabies into your thin skull.
I painted over the walls, wrote the poems. I shook your goddamn boots.
Now you want out? Think you'll wrestle me out of you with prescriptions?
A good man's good love and some breathing exercises?
You think I can't tame that? I always come home. Always.
Ravenous. Loaded. You know better than anybody:
I'm bigger than God. — Jeanann Verlee

Days may pass into months, months may pass into years, and years may pass into decades, but I will always keep waiting for you. — Avijeet Das

show me all the parts of you
that you do not love
so i know where to begin. — AVA.

I wanted to write some words you'd remember.

Words so alert they'd leap from the paper,
crawl up your shoulder, lie by your ears,
and purr themselves to you like baby kittens,
but it was rainy, so I laid there and daydreamed about you. — C.L. Foster