I write too many love poems,
I already know this.
I have this thesaurus heart that searches for ways to explain
how I feel.
This Sam Smith soul,
Janis Joplin ache
And every pop, teeny bopper super star optimism that is sometimes nauseating.
Trust me, I know.
When it comes to love, I talk too much.
Sometimes, I say to myself,
“No, today you will write about polka dots,
Or that time in 6th grade when a boy threw your backpack into the street and it got run over
Or the first time you galloped on a horse
and thought maybe that’s what flying feels like.”
But I forget every idea I’ve ever had
when my fingers pick up a pen.
I trace blank pages, ready to be filled with stories,
like the time I punched a boy for making my friend cry.
Instead, I write,
“I like you so much.”
All these love poems that start to sound the same.
Is it pretty enough?
Is it too simple?
Is it too easy to say
I love you
Maybe I could say:
I potato you.
I 50% off black friday shopping you.
I words words words you.
Because I love you
must not even mean much
if it is all I ever write.
I write I love you too much.
I don’t know much of anything these days.
I am learning to be a grown up
and cook and take responsibility.
I am learning I cannot run and hide when things hurt.
There is so much
I do not know.
But I have always known one thing
and that’s how to love.
So yes, I write too many love poems.
Because love is one of the only things
I actually understand.