poetry for love

morning poem

 

 

the fear of not getting enough sleep, when my alarm goes off

is there this morning

like a person with a broken leg and their crutch outta reach

scoop myself up towards the day

realizing I dreamt of you last night

as I start to pull on those we coffee beans

I remember that the dream of you was a fantasy

like that where, you take me in your arms and say all of everything to my ears

that you wait to attack me just because I hadn't attacked you first

but at the same time you wait you move forward to enrapture my being

with sex and love

you act on me like a great novel acted on your young mind

triumphantly exposing and calling the shot

but this dream

was not that

it was just

us

I was myself, my source of grit and perseverance, my confidential exposed and unchanged yet garnished

You were yourself, rooted in bravery and uprooted in concern, fluent in many forms of patience yet eager to meditate on one

wild in the daily shuffle the dream felt

dull in the overt revealing

for the sake of our sustainability

for the commerce of an intelligent dream, the dream that is placed in knowing

dreaming of whats real

is like wearing a shirt backwards and inside out on purpose

because its warmer that way

 

Juliet Loranger