Call it Love

this whole business of longing,
my mind and I disagree,
the theatrics of darkness,
hysterics of a parallel eternity,
the waxy sadness of being,
longing is purgatory
between what was and
what cannot be,
no, never mind its shroud, its soulful rhapsody,
don’t, just don’t
call it love;

here and now,
this moment of belonging,
held close by a word, a glance,
the cold edge of a dagger,
time hanging from a trapeze,
a dewdrop between earth and sun,
measure it if you can,
whisper it if you can,
call it by its name,
it wont mind, call it loudly, free its arms,
call it love.

34 thoughts on “Call it Love

  1. a lot of feelings in your words – such a quandary. – what is and what can never be.
    Great lines:
    “my mind and I disagree,
    the theatrics of darkness,”

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Once again, you’ve caught me in your fragile web of words, I enter, thinking the trap is harmless, only to find that as my mind becomes further entangled with the depths of your poetry, my soul cannot escape the longing for more.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. years ago if you asked me if i had ever been in love…
    i would have said yes.
    but how little i did know!

    This is good work. Longing always hits me hard, thank you for shining your light on it.


  4. OH….WONDERFULLY SAID~ Especially the trapeze line! 🙂 Yes — the longing for the past or the living in the past is a blinder to the now. You’ve worded it very well here — the present, as in gift, of the present.


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