Different loves

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Four poems of different types of feelings with love.

Submitted: November 15, 2016

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Submitted: November 15, 2016

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When I saw you again, my heart jumped out of my chest. Your hair flopped around as you ran, you had dimples, and you simply weren’t one of those guys that tried to impress everybody yet you were charming. I’d talked to you before, but I never thought of you like this. It was one of those romances where I first saw you and I didn’t instantly like you but when I found out your habits, the way you lean your head on your hand as you listen, the way that you laugh when somebody says something funny, the way you walk when you’re mad or the way you tilt your head back and laugh, and your eyes fill with passion as you talk about things you love. I want to postpone everything for you. I would put my world on hold for you. I liked you in the way that I didn’t care when you talked to other girls, even if we weren’t together. I didn’t care if you didn’t message me because I knew you probably didn’t feel the same, but I didn’t care. I liked you in the way that I would stay up all night for you, but at the same time I wasn’t scared to tell you I was tired. I liked you in the way that I wasn’t afraid to say goodbye.

 

When I first saw her I knew she was different. She was passionate, filled with spirit. She laughed, tilted her head back, ran her fingers through her hair. She was a free soul. She was filled with pain, you could see it behind her eyes, and nobody with that much spirit, with that much passion had not been through great amounts of pain. I wasn’t sure what it was, I wanted to know, I wanted to listen to her, let her words fill me up, the vowels sink deep in my veins and every single sigh wrap my bones. She was surrounded with despair, but she wiped away every tear and put a smile on her face, lifted her shoulders and walked head high into the gates of school. She was determined to be happy, to be passionate, to be fearless. I liked her because she was much more than she seemed. She wasn’t simply the languages she spoke, how she looked, the way she walked. She was the music she listened to, the things she went on and on about, the typewriter she was obsessed with, the things she wrote. She was a field full of roses, beautiful yet dangerous. She only let it show every once in a while. She was scared that she would scare people away with how she was. I liked her because she was everything, she was thoughtful, she was kind, but most of all she was herself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And as you told me about the things that you loved, as your eyes filled with light, and your hands moved to the beat of your heart, I knew I loved you. As you listened with your head on your hand, the way that you nodded and smiled, closed your eyes to imagine it, I knew I loved you. But my darling we were never meant to be because you see when two people love each other very much, they both have to be committed. I’m afraid you cut yourself on my broken pieces. You see my darling if you look carefully, the way my eyes are puffy in the mornings, the way I look away when he looks at me. I love you more than I could love anything, but some stories just don’t have a happy ending. My dear I’ve been through more struggle than you might ever go through, and my heart does not heal as fast as yours beats.

 

But I simply cannot understand how somebody that was presumably so in love can just leave like that. With a turn of a heel you left. You opened that door and you left. I loved you, I loved you down to your silly and annoying habits, I was ready to put up with them, but you had a different plan. You said you loved me, but you didn’t and those words ripped me apart from the inside, they sunk in my veins and ripped my heart out of my body and as you sat there your words where like waves crashing on my shore, they were like cutting down a rose after its so beautifully grown, but getting a little prick on the thumb as you take away its life. Our love was like a garden of roses, full of wonderful colours and smells, but underneath it all, lay thorns of every kind, and you ripped up those roses, you ripped apart my heart, but you ignored the thorns, like they were simply an added decoration. 


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