Philosophy Magazine

One Hundred Love Poems

By Stfallen @stfallen


There is very little ink left
in the world
to express
how the body yearns
to piece together the puzzle
to break each wall down
to build bridges between
our eyes
to give everything
for nothing
in return
to remember
you are only bound
to lose.


Count each blessing
weighed, measured
and wrapped
tightly, holding
together, coming
apart, springing
forth blue-blooded sunset,
giving way
to hot-blooded sunrise.


There are no blind men here
only those who choose not to see
only those chosen not to be seen
only those few that spread their eyes open,
empty lungs, full hearts, sealed lips.
If only those lips could be opened,
and only that tongue would speak,
there would be no deaf men here,
only those who seek.


Shelter is a storm
in its calm; I
have known home
to be a house
with four walls:
guilt, shame,
and humiliation.


Drink to forget
the glass is empty
Smoke to forget
the fire is out
Eat to forget
the stomach is empty
Learn to forget
the heart is healing


Look for me in the shape
of creased pages, I hide
between the lines, you read
into my thoughts, through
my mind, out of sight. Look for me
in the silence
between forever
and now. When you find
what you have lost,
look for your mind.


I have found peace in isolation
then thought, “To hell with it!”
and flung my heart into your arms,
should butter fingers slip,
I will find pieces in constellations,
each mapping out the way to you,
the countless ways, your mind – a maze,
the secret beating off-time
caught in an infinite loop
echoing eternity
through false hope.


Sing for laughter won’t soothe these burns
Sing for cries won’t ever be heard
Sing for love won’t find its own way
Sing for life won’t have its day
Sing for silence won’t mind company
Sing for prayer won’t give God a bleeding ear


Four letter words are no fans of brevity
They wish to be repeated, drawn out,
blown out of proportion.

Four letter words are ammunition,
locked and loaded, ready to
jump the gun.

Four letter words are a siren song,
sung out of tune, sung out of love.

Four letter words are almsgivings,
and not a single fuck was given.


Test me. Pull the strings.
Make the instrument.
Break the silence.
Dash it to the floor.
Dance over the pieces.
Paint the earth red
- once more, with feeling.

To be continued…

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