Monday, 7 November 2011

That Love

(Consider this a warm up :-) by some random dude with random words that inspire random randomness within.... Enjoy!)

"That Love" by Simone Stolzoff

I want to scale the summits of our silence
Trace the topography and texture of the undulating sound waves
like I used to stroke the grooves of the wind outside the passengers seat.
From the start when
I will wait to approach, my heart will thump like a sly bassline
while I picture you strumming serenades on my heartstrings,
you’ll have me syncopating syllables like chambers.
If your heart is as big as my heartbeat will suggest,
I’ll have to buy you a bigger cage before then.
From the start, you’ll just be her—
A she and an I was without a we.
Beauty will be in the arms of who can hold her.
All I want is to be the he in your heart
and when intimidation turns into infatuation and you finally can become my you,
I will hate how easily you’ll be able to make or break my day.
Your eyes will wait like Christmas eve.
Your smile will dimple rooms like stars do July.
I will put them in a glass jar—
Don’t worry I’ll poke holes in the top so they can breath.
And put that container, shining like an inside of a firework,
on the pedestal next to your face.
But truthfully, the love I want at two shades over 19 years isn’t that poetic.
Cuz I want that:
I spend a disproportionate amount of time on your Facebook profile type love,
that girl I wanna take you out to commons type love,
that I will ask your name before my tongue goes down your throat type love.
But it’s also:
that I left a spot for your head carved in my shoulder type love,
that I carry your stories on the inside of my teeth so only I know why I’m smiling type  love .
The truth is I’d be just fine with that “like” type love.
Cuz so far I tend to be that guy that lets go after the honeymoon,
yet to be the one to go all in with a 7 2 off suited clinging to that one heart in my hand and hoping to find a pair.
So I’ll wait for the day where I’ll realize that sometimes dancing is the storm is prettier than in the shine,
wait for that love that’s more than something a woman gives and a man takes,
wait for that love that has no regard for timing or discretion,
that love that god writes sunsets about,
that Garret writes poems about,
that wars fought, leaders shot,
that love that romantics rot for.
The closest I’ve come to crying for love was in the fourth grade when I realized Jordan Leonard was too popular for me.
And I know weeping for a girl doesn’t quite gel with this Judeo-Thug persona I’m going for,
but if that’s what it takes to get that Jennifer-Aniston-movie type love, I’ll cry and swim down my check waterfalls into the river I cry myself.
Right now love is someone that I admire, but don’t yet know like the trash man on my block or the inventor of bendy straws.
So I’m not sure if I can write a love poem while its still just a prospect pirouetting on my horizon.
But hopefully I’ll find it,
Like finding five dollar bill in folds of denim.
And when I do find that love
You’ll be the first to hear about it.

No comments:

Post a Comment