Ten Love Poems

They made you promises.

They promise to be there.
They promise never to hurt you.
They promise to be your sun, your moon, your stars.
They promise to stand tall.
They promise to be the people you can rely on most.
They promise not to cheat.
They promise not to lie.
They promise to treat you right.

I won't.

I am simply going to love you the way I know how to love you.
And I won't ever need a second chance.


I would snatch lighting from the sky for you.
I will bottle it and place it on your shelf;
Tame it and teach it to respond on command
So that you can brighten your darkness at will.


I am the guy who will watch a great film over and over again. I'll study it in depth and attempt to memorize it. I will fixate on every nuance, both intentional and accidental, which makes that film what it is.

I'll reread the same great books over and over. I want to visit with and know those characters and the world they both inhabit and shape. I want to remember them as they are right now, so as they grow and change, I know he full picture and can smile at the journey.

I'll stare at the same piece of beautiful art for hours, day after day, both to appreciate the subtle aspects the artist included and to contemplate just how lucky I am - both for living in an era where that piece of art exists and for having the capacity for understanding why that matters.

And that's why I keep looking into your eyes and why I can't stay away. And it's also how you know that you can go ahead and put away your fear that I will ever, EVER grow tired of you.

That's impossible. Because all the stories and film and music and art I appreciate, one thing is in common: they're beautiful. They're worth studying and appreciating and contemplating and pondering and fixating on.

Just like you are.


Dawn through the window
The way your body catches light
The sun's only job


It isn't the things you say.

…Although, as I've told you, every time you open your mouth, something else wonderful comes out of it and binds me to you.

It isn't the way you kiss me.

…Although, as you can feel, every single kiss between us is electric and charges me unlike I've ever been charged.

It's not the way you roll your eyes when you smile.

…Although, that does make me want to wrap you in my arms and never, ever let you go – and I don't, because if you're wrapped up in my arms, I can't clearly see you roll your eyes when you smile.

It's not even how you look at me.

…Although, when I do look into your eyes, I see you looking at me the same way I'm looking at you: as if somehow if I stare long enough and deep enough ingot them, I will see even the faintest swirls of a forecast telling our future together.


It's the way you walk out of a room we're both in.

The last glance backward… You do it more often than you even realize you do. And when you do, you smile and then you roll your eyes. And we've covered that.

But it's not the fact you do that, even. It's the fact I'm looking up every single time you do it, because can't bear to know you're leaving the room and I'm not watching you up to the very last moment before you exit my view. Because if I'm not watching, I will miss something incredible.

And I know that fact for certain, because everything you do – up to and including the way your hips shimmy as you walk out of a room – is incredible.


When I was a boy, I used to throw pennies into wells and wish for someone to love me.

Today, I don't think I could pay attention to birthday candles long enough to blow them all out and make a wish, because the light in your eyes is too distracting.


I don't think I miss you too much.
I miss you the right amount for how I feel about you.
Meaning, I see you in the sunrise.
I see you beside me waking my dog in the morning.
I see you in the shower laughing at some dumb joke I didn't just make while we are getting ready for our day.
I see you in the passenger seat of my truck anywhere I drive.
I see you when I get home, napping in my bed.
I also hear you in every song, I smell you in my morning coffee, I feel you when I pull the blankets over me and I taste you when I bite my own lip.
So, no, not too much.
Just the right amount.


I dreamt of you and Paris and that we kissed.
Although I know it wasn't real, I still woke up breathless.


What if all the words stopped?
What if I couldn't say them or write them anymore?
Would you love me?
Would you still feel the electricity that sparks between us?
I would try so hard to show you
I would try
I would learn to dance
I would paint a painting a day for years
I would teach myself the piano
I would sculpt monuments in honor of my feelings for you
I would find a way to show you
I would find a way to let you know
The words, they are my dance
They are my paint, my music, my clay
I hope I never lose them
because it might take years to learn
how to do something new
In such a way
That honors


Your chest rises and falls
You have never looked so calm
You are in my arms