They call this feeling
love, but I call it heaven—
a place for my heart to
be at peace, not in
pieces
I drove home today
on salty roads, covered in
slush and snow, thinking to myself
as the headlights illuminated
my silhouetted face:
This is beauty beyond love,
this is love beyond beauty
this is love beyond beauty
We are meant to be
together, writing poetry under a
moonlit sky thinking who cares
if there is a tomorrow
We aren’t cynical criticizing every
creative beauty around us,
we’re poets dreaming
of the future ten seconds from now:
kissing each other on
the lips, as our hearts set ablaze
we’re poets, loving creation
and every speck of detail
around us
we’re lovers
spending every second
together on paper lines
crossed out many times until
the right words strike
a chord, we’re
the right words strike
a chord, we’re
lovers dreaming of
our awaited future
that the world tries
deriving us from
seeing, and love might
be blind but you
are my vision, and I
have been surveying
we’re dreamers
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