Untitled

What other way to write a love poem? than by your lover’s side, early,
before his dream starts to fade
and the sun starts painting patterns on his face.

What other way to write a love poem? than by writing it in red ink
in an old journal you never thought you’d use,
but kept because you liked the texture of the cover.

And what other way? than to write it in cursive and long lines,
using line breaks only when you pause
to take a look at his face, trying to guess where or what he’s dreaming of.

What other way to write a love poem? than by running your finger softly over his brows,
starring at the curve of his nose,
down to his lips,
and lean in close to imprint a kiss,

but get distracted by the movement of his chest as he breathes,
and you subconsciously follow his heartbeats.

Keep on going until he turns his body and he starts breathing a little louder.
His arms stretch out as the sun falls on his eyes,
begging them to open—
and they do.

And what other way to end a love poem? than to leave it untitled,
still not sure what it’s about.

What other way to end? than to slide it under your pillow,
and with a smile, turn to your lover and whisper:


good morning.





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