i was told to stand in love.
effortlessly falling into an abyss, my middle name, love.
surname: his kiss.
longing to develop
the longevity which to be the epitome of happiness
the big house. 2 and 1/2 children (terrier included)
and the white picket fence
i adored love. love the way it tasted upon my tounge
within my eyes in my inner honey supple thighs
the way it rippled and waved
swayed and misaligned the silence that disrupted within me
could this be a sign
that i love love. that i want to say
i fucking hate the
inner workings of how soulmates dissapate
and future long loves never connect
yet always effect the
way i think about a Sade song
the way i turn and think about him when I smell a passerby
wearing his cologne
how i misstep to the Dells purposely
just so i wont think of him
intimately.
i was told to stand.
stand firm and hold onto those tendon filled muscles
in a stance when i'm weak. stand firm and collide with
tears in the dark and dampened pillows awakened to the day.
stand tall. neck elongated without hanging head
begging to be uplifted with a tender finger
reassurance in the constant soul linger
of inner freshness and new lover's forgiveness.
be new.
purposely anew. new like
500 thread cotton sheets bounced from
dryers spinning back and forth from heat. like the heat. love the heat.
the kind of heat where
sweatbeads form and glisten
lovemaking in entirety from stimulation of the mind just listen
i was a fool to fall into something so untrue
and now i am here, writing this poem to you.
to you.
beautiful.loving.you.
you demand the touch and motion required
to breathe, and when you asked for air, I gave you the
wind beneath your wings.
still love you.
always have.
but....i guess i fell in love.
fell in love with being in love.
fell in love with feeling love.
fell in love with capturing love.
encapsuled souls stimulating sinful intiuitions
of how just one kiss can be sweet decadence
and how i fell into your deep abyss.
but i was told to stand.
love is something that you do not fall in,
but with someone you stand with.
genius.
absolute truth.
first name love, last name stand
and now I stand
with you.
-b.r.rivera
Shout out to Mr. Desmond Nelson, my muse for this poem. He told me that love is not something that I fall in, but something I should stand in. It took me a minute to write this, probably because I wanted to deny the truth within it. However, after careful consideration, I know that I cannot fall into anything, because my soul will not allow it. I choose to stand in love-not be hopeless and have that characteristic feeling of unreciprocated passion and emotion. True love, as I now understand it-is something that you stand within. Thanks, Desmond.
effortlessly falling into an abyss, my middle name, love.
surname: his kiss.
longing to develop
the longevity which to be the epitome of happiness
the big house. 2 and 1/2 children (terrier included)
and the white picket fence
i adored love. love the way it tasted upon my tounge
within my eyes in my inner honey supple thighs
the way it rippled and waved
swayed and misaligned the silence that disrupted within me
could this be a sign
that i love love. that i want to say
i fucking hate the
inner workings of how soulmates dissapate
and future long loves never connect
yet always effect the
way i think about a Sade song
the way i turn and think about him when I smell a passerby
wearing his cologne
how i misstep to the Dells purposely
just so i wont think of him
intimately.
i was told to stand.
stand firm and hold onto those tendon filled muscles
in a stance when i'm weak. stand firm and collide with
tears in the dark and dampened pillows awakened to the day.
stand tall. neck elongated without hanging head
begging to be uplifted with a tender finger
reassurance in the constant soul linger
of inner freshness and new lover's forgiveness.
be new.
purposely anew. new like
500 thread cotton sheets bounced from
dryers spinning back and forth from heat. like the heat. love the heat.
the kind of heat where
sweatbeads form and glisten
lovemaking in entirety from stimulation of the mind just listen
i was a fool to fall into something so untrue
and now i am here, writing this poem to you.
to you.
beautiful.loving.you.
you demand the touch and motion required
to breathe, and when you asked for air, I gave you the
wind beneath your wings.
still love you.
always have.
but....i guess i fell in love.
fell in love with being in love.
fell in love with feeling love.
fell in love with capturing love.
encapsuled souls stimulating sinful intiuitions
of how just one kiss can be sweet decadence
and how i fell into your deep abyss.
but i was told to stand.
love is something that you do not fall in,
but with someone you stand with.
genius.
absolute truth.
first name love, last name stand
and now I stand
with you.
-b.r.rivera
Shout out to Mr. Desmond Nelson, my muse for this poem. He told me that love is not something that I fall in, but something I should stand in. It took me a minute to write this, probably because I wanted to deny the truth within it. However, after careful consideration, I know that I cannot fall into anything, because my soul will not allow it. I choose to stand in love-not be hopeless and have that characteristic feeling of unreciprocated passion and emotion. True love, as I now understand it-is something that you stand within. Thanks, Desmond.
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