This is not a love poem
It’s a symphony
Of these bodies
And you,
Plucking the strings
Of that heart
And it,
Roaring before it vibrates
A thousand words and notes
Through the bones and skin.

This is not a love poem,
It’s a heart diving into
All your awkward spaces,
As a gray submarine diving down below
The underwater of your deep waters
It is eyes in that submarine,
Never missing the sun
As they caught it sleeping in your smile,
It brought
A lost heart back.

This is not a love poem
It’s a story of
Two fishermen being each other’s fish
Two fishes diving into
The waters of each other’s oceans
Letting their limbs defy the waves
As a summer night, with you the fish
Has feathers and the bird gills and scales
Little thing will always fail to drown
Fail to die,
Neither stay underwater nor fly.

This is not a love poem,
It’s a heartbeat away
From being one,
To let my heart rule
My pen, write twenty two
Poems titled you,
And if I do,
Would you call them
Love poems,
Would you call me
Hopeless,
And if I do
Would you tell me
That you love me too,
Though not quite enough
To read between the lines
Of poems lost between
Whispers of my fingertips
And your half listening ear.

This is not a love poem,
It’s not about perfect kisses
Perfect moments, perfect
Touches and sighs of bliss
This is about us being
Human, remembering
How comforting it is
To be able to find comfort
In, being able to
Be myself with you.

This is not a love poem
Because I do not wear
My heart on my sleeve
And when I wear it,
It’s tucked between
My lungs and ribs
Its accidental cage.

Rihane Zoubairi