Love Poems for Valentine's Day

“Stony Sleep”

I lament my state of unconsciousness 

When sleeping in your arms

For I cannot relish in your presence 

When I am asleep.

The drops of rain knocking on the window,

The soft exhale of your breath.

“I can hear your heart” you say

And the rate picks up. 

A dreamless night,

No need for interruptions,

Falls upon me yet again

In your melting embrace.

When morning comes,

I want to stay in your arms for another minute

—Or maybe night.

The next day, I lament my unconscious state.

“Shall I compare thee to an old love song?”

Shall I compare thee to an old love song?

Filled with lyrics that flow like sweet honey, 

You can’t help but to sing right along,

Sing and shout them until it sounds funny.

Dance in the kitchen while you cook,

Think about the one who would dance with you.

Does he even know how the dance would look?

Would he sing the words to the verses too?

The upbeat melody paired with sad words,

Suddenly, you listen instead of hear.

Love is becoming hate in all the verbs,

Now, all of the meanings are turning clear.

This was not supposed to be a love song,

It was a song about love all along.

“Pink Blush”

Pink blush on her cheeks,

soft as dawn’s first light.

Her laugh rings like cowbells,

warm, golden, bright.

The sun stays low,

caught in her glow,

tracing her light,

too late to let go.

The sun leans in,

jealous of her glow—

but she is mine,

and the world must know.

I watch the tides rise and rise and rise 

As the seagull glides without beating a wing 

Drifting in search of a lighthouse, I watched the stars burn in your eyes  

The bruises on my legs, your mellifluous oath echoing 

On the coast of Brittany you left me religious and less wise 

Turned me into a seagull, ridden of regret, fevered by a fling 

Never was there time for you to rip off my disguise 

For if you knew me, surely from a higher cliff I’d be falling 

I’d like to forget all of those love-induced highs  

Rather, shield the small girl before each infectious bee sting  

Meandering below the Mont St Michel, I take comfort in an archangel’s lies 

Like a seagull that can never make up its mind still I am singing 

Eternally watching the tides rise and rise and rise.

I see her, sitting there

Makeup in hand as she blots color onto her face

Never before have I beheld such a visage

Such artistry, such perfection

Crystal eyes and plump lips, the

Apotheosis of beauty

The embodiment of an angel

Soft hands, soft hair

A smile reserved for me, and me only

O, how lucky I am

To be able

To call her mine

To say, I can love her, and she, in return, loves me

Perfection

I am incapable of words to describe this

Feeling

The sensation that has taken me over

Where am I without her?

I love her. It is true.

How can one put into words

The absolute wonder

That comes with being able to love someone

And for them to love you again

Throughout the years forever and ever

Need I say forever? For how do I know

How long this will last

And yet I do hope

For how could I ever

Have someone again

I have felt this way before, and I know

That the girls I have loved will fade

But always, there is something

And the way that she looks at me

She loves me too

And that has never happened before

Ney, not like this

Her beauty unmatched, her countenance

That of the divine

I love her, I love her

The lady of wisdom, beauty, poise

Unmatchable and indescribable

How can I detail

The way she makes me feel

The way she lights up a room

The words are petty on the page

I love her

It is all I can say

She is my muse, my everything

A cliché, I know

But I am blessèd

I love her

I love her

I love you

“Revolution”

“Love, of all emotions, is democratic”

-Still Life With Woodpecker, Robbins

Swimming though the sea

Is that democratic?

Plucking petals from a flower

Is that democratic? 

Splitting something in two

Is that democratic?

It is not democratic to find your fish in the sea

It is not democratic to discover whether she loves-me-loves-me-not

It is not democratic to long for your other half, Zeus having ripped you apart

Love is not democratic, 

it is more exclusive than popular songs have led us to believe.  

Romance is a revolution.

“Shall I compare thee to a lonesome star?”

Shall I compare thee to a lonesome star?

Burning in all of her restless glory

Amongst silence and rage, she is ne’er far

Yearning and hoping to tell her story

Amongst sandy rocks, thou art a blue pearl

Penning milky white dreams in thy journal

In thy unseen glow, in thy golden curl,

Thy light may be distant, yet eternal

The death of a star goes out with a bang

All alone, she is silent in waiting

Thou art a supernova, angels rang

Crushing life, it is often berating

“Goodbye,” I did dream, as thou departed,

To mourn the end, ignore how thou started.

Lips that taste like cheeky cigarettes, 


A habit formed by whispers in the dark,


I gave them up to love you, though my heart regrets,


Exchanging the ash for liquor’s fleeting spark. 

Zipping up my beaten jeans, “lucky you” I said.


As scraped knees bear the weight of youthful grace,


A lighter tucked in denim, now I dread,


While the downpour chased my place.

Yet still, beneath the broken awning, I remain.
I picked it up again, that small fire,


That sweet, familiar pain. 


The ember’s warmth, my only true desire.

For love, like smoke, slips through my fingertips,


But in your arms, I would have hoped to find a softer grip.

“Apocalypse”

The world’s been burning for quite a while now– sparks dancing in the dark

Suns colliding in the shadows of apocalypse, its burnt cities lay naked, stark

Even in the final hour, I don’t mind the absence of your body next to mine

Yet I’m wishing on that little star, dropping into reach yet everlost in time

That you still know my love somehow, somewhere in the infinite abyss

That your cold and full lips remember the grasping, pleading imprint of my kiss

Like the pearls cascading from the sky, it’s knotted hard in silver strings in my chest–

The guilt of never talking, remembering the fall and doubting the rest

I hope I haunt you now, my sharp silence, my new shiny skin

Know it’s you who ripped it off, once raw against what could’ve been

Gasping for breath, choked by tears and smoke, it’s your strange name

That sounds the storm’s hollow horn, blister of pale flame

Asteroids crash like dynamite, the muffled ache turns to a surreal peace

Out of time, I let go and picture you and I wandering these broken, blazen streets.

“Shall I compare thee to a grotesque bug?”

Shall I compare thee to a grotesque bug?

Thou squeak as I stand outside and hover.

Oh! A grand sight before me on the rug,

Thy changed, but I could not see thee as ‘nother.

I could never detest thy buglike ways;

If trash be the food of roaches, feast on.

Thy skittish moves brighten my somber days,

I shall always open thy door at dawn.

Thrown are the fruit and insults at thy back;


Frigid are the chills down thy mother’s spine.


Fear not, my six-legged brother, do not crack, 


Father shall love thee as I do in time.


But, soft! What light breaks through this bedroom run?


It is the east, and Gregor is the sun.

Stretched out like hazy film 

The last scintilla cakes the camera lens 

Where you forget the sad song you used to sing in the south of France 

You forget the human condition

When love looks like a gold sparkly dress burning kindly to a crisp 

When it feels silly to say goodbye 

Remembering months when 

The thought you hate turned into the illusion you love into countless scenes seen by 

Undone eyes.

I know with you how it ends 

I wouldn’t want to live it again

While paying a fortune just to rewind.