Tag Archives: poem

My love letter

I love you as you are,

I accept you as you are.

I sit in quiet darkness, waiting for truth from your lips and warmth from your touch. But they will not come and I have to make my peace with it.

I pray to no god as I think of you and hope against all hope that you come to me without reservations and fear. But you will not come and I have to make my peace with it.

This is how I love you. Knowing you will not come but hoping that you will, knowing in my heart the truth of it all.

This is how I love you. As you are, even when you are short with me and anger comes to you. As you are, even when you’re afraid and coldness emanates from you.

I love you. Because you are funny, or rather you think you are. Because you are sweet and kind. Because you are intelligent and work hard. Because you are a good man.

Because you speak Spanish to me and because you text me in German.

Because you get mad at me and you cook me spaghetti.

Because you build a wall and don’t let me in.

Because you kiss me softly and you flirt.

Because you love your cat and most of all . . .

I love you because you’re imperfect as I am, and . . .

I love and I couldn’t say why.

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Fantasies

Dream of my dreams, if only you could come true,

But what battlefield would life be if that was true?

If happiness was real, if at peace were my heart?

No manner of life would that be, unknown to me,

Always searching, never finding,

Contentment is what I find,

And never the happiness I seek.

The journey would have no purpose if happines was within my grasp,

What else is there to live for than the journey?

Mansplaining

Lets start with a clarification for the benefit of men:

When a woman expresses herself, when she speaks her mind, when she has doubts and or when she speaks at all she IS NOT ASKING MEN for their opinion on the subject, for an explanation, for help or for their input. So, stop telling women what to do, what to think, what to say. You are being insufferable, condescending and patronizing idiots.

Now to the issue at hand.

I wrote and posted a poem on the subject of love and freedom etc yesterday. A gentleman left me a very lengthy comment addressing the subject of the poem, but not only that, he also proceeded to,

  1. Give me advice on my love life. What bothers me the most is that he assumed that I need advice, that I want advice or that he is entitled and/or qualified to give me advice. Yes, I am expressing myself in a public manner but I am not asking for his or anybody’s advice. Why would he think that? Well, because men usually assumed their superior position when it comes to women. This attitude is condescending and quite blind to the fact that women are whole human beings equal to men.
  2. Explain to me  that my words were “to severe” and what words should I use and when should I use them. I am not opposed to receiving constructive criticism but I am oppose to people who tell me what and when to write or what words I should use.
  3. Tell me how I should live y life. No this is extremely offensive, so obviously offensive that I won’t bother explaining why.
  4. Finally, and this is the most outrageous thing of all, he told me the type of men I should engage in a relationship with. Need I say more?

In love

I love him, I love him so,

I feel his pain as mine, he does not feel mine so,

To wait in vain for him to come,

To conquer his fear, but he does not,

He walks alone, but then I see,

He loves me so? But no, not ever, no . . . 

I endure the pain, my broken soul,

I walk away with my broken pieces nothing more,

To him I went, but no more,

To him, for him my heart yearns so much,

He knows not how deep in my soul he is?

He wonders why I don’t come back to him?

No, he knows not,

No, he wonders not,

No, his fear is his, 

No, my love is mine.

What is love

What is . . .

  • Love is a 90’s song by Haddaway
  • Love is the number of imperfections we are blind to in our sentimental partners
  • Love is the pain I feel when I remember you don’t love me
  • Love is to give all the shrimps on your plate to your little brother even though they are your favorite
  • Love is to cry alone at night and laugh like a crazy person in your car
  • Love is picking up the phone at all times, at any time
  • Love is . . .