Some Older Stuff

I just found a couple of poems I wrote while I was seeing the last guy I was seeing. I guess they are dedicated to him.

Untitled #1

I don’t want roses,
or shiny boxes of candy,
or cute fuzzy animals,
nights out at elegant restaurants.
I don’t want you to dress up
hold the door for me
pay the bill for me
order music for me
even sing to me
(though you know that you can’t).
All I want
is the look in your beautiful eyes
which says, without any pretense
or aplomb, or dramatic clichés:
“Baby, I love you, and I’m here to stay”,
as you’re clad in a hoodie and slacks
in the cheap dingy diner
two blocks down from our door,
with the splendid inelegance
of unkempt morning grumpiness.
If I had that, I’d laugh till I drop
at The Knight, neatly hugged
by his shining, superfluous armor.

Untitled #2

It’s not that hard
to love me –
I promise you, I do;
I will annoy you, drive you mad
and you will waste
many a gorgeous plate
in my direction.
But at the end,
when we collect our shards
after the stormy outburst,
it’s really not that hard
to love me.
It is true –
I may sometimes lose track
of where your light is;
it is true –
I may sometimes go ‘stray.
But at the end,
when I sweep out my ego
and come back to my home
(which is your heart),
you’ll see, again, and not to much surprise
it’s really not that hard
to love me.
For I love
without a complex contract;
for I love
without you fearing
I may change my mind –
tomorrow, or next week, or through the rain…
All I need, all I want,
is just the same naïve, imprudent,
pure, uncalculating, honest,
sometimes boyishly uncouth,
sometimes frighteningly deep,
often sharper than a knife
(and yet smoother than black velvet)
Love. You have. For me.
‘Cause anyway, it’s all we get
and all of worth to have.