What Love Is, and other Poems
by me
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
What is love?
Love is an ache in your body that isn’t fixed by advil.
Love is a debilitating disease.
Love is intoxicating.
Love is associating scents with intense feelings.
Love is looking back as you’re walking away, then closing your eyes as you run back.
Love is a great excuse to cry.
Love is the most hated, confusing, disgusting, disturbing, feared, needed, prejudiced, annoying and nonsensical of all feelings.
Love is the winking stars, the wind in the trees, a hot summer rain, a cool fall breeze, orange leaves on an autumn tree, a warm hug, a hot kiss.
Love is delectably indescribable.
Love is hearing “that song” in the exact moment you were thinking of “that person”.
Love is never forgiving.
Love is reliving painful, amazing moments where you laugh and cry all in one breath.
Love is a song that moves you to tears.
Love is a song that, no matter how unhappy you are, always moves you
Do people always get sick when they’re far away from the one they love?
Why can’t you guarantee love?
Or at least, why can’t anyone else guarantee love?
I know that as angry as I might get, or as bored, or offended, or infatuated with someone else, there will be people I will always love.
I can tell, because whenever I see them, my heart leaps, I try not to cry, I fight back vomit, and I almost (and sometimes do) leap for joy.
And it hurts.
It’s like burping, sneezing, and hiccupping all at once.
You have to do all you can to keep from puking, and when the moment is over, you can still feel it in the back of your throat.
And when you think about it in the next few days, weeks, months, years, decades, you can still feel it rising in your chest.
But what if it’s just asthma?
Must Be The Weather
Sometimes I find I remember
The way we used to be
And when I try to forget
It’s only you I see
I don’t wonder if I love you
I don’t really think I do
It must just be the time of year
That makes me dream of you
Love is an ache in your body that isn’t fixed by advil.
Love is a debilitating disease.
Love is intoxicating.
Love is associating scents with intense feelings.
Love is looking back as you’re walking away, then closing your eyes as you run back.
Love is a great excuse to cry.
Love is the most hated, confusing, disgusting, disturbing, feared, needed, prejudiced, annoying and nonsensical of all feelings.
Love is the winking stars, the wind in the trees, a hot summer rain, a cool fall breeze, orange leaves on an autumn tree, a warm hug, a hot kiss.
Love is delectably indescribable.
Love is hearing “that song” in the exact moment you were thinking of “that person”.
Love is never forgiving.
Love is reliving painful, amazing moments where you laugh and cry all in one breath.
Love is a song that moves you to tears.
Love is a song that, no matter how unhappy you are, always moves you
Do people always get sick when they’re far away from the one they love?
Why can’t you guarantee love?
Or at least, why can’t anyone else guarantee love?
I know that as angry as I might get, or as bored, or offended, or infatuated with someone else, there will be people I will always love.
I can tell, because whenever I see them, my heart leaps, I try not to cry, I fight back vomit, and I almost (and sometimes do) leap for joy.
And it hurts.
It’s like burping, sneezing, and hiccupping all at once.
You have to do all you can to keep from puking, and when the moment is over, you can still feel it in the back of your throat.
And when you think about it in the next few days, weeks, months, years, decades, you can still feel it rising in your chest.
But what if it’s just asthma?
Must Be The Weather
Sometimes I find I remember
The way we used to be
And when I try to forget
It’s only you I see
I don’t wonder if I love you
I don’t really think I do
It must just be the time of year
That makes me dream of you
