THIS IS NOT A LOVE POEM

This is not a love poem.

I won’t be talking about slow dancing and romancing

Eyes prancing the scope of your body

Glancing the flesh that stole my vision

Your breath to speech; vocal ammunition

Fired into my soul leaving me in critical condition

This is not a lover’s rendition of 80s blues or Kenny G on a track

His lips fondling the saxophone like yours on the trail of my back

I won’t tell you in this poem that cupid made me his mark

And shot me from behind so I can’t define this feeling of your tongue grazing my arc

This is not a love poem for sweethearts to recite

Late at night or broad day light

When the darkness or sunlight form a back drop to emotional flight

When senses of wrong get lost in right

This is not a love poem to ignite the flame of romances past

To bring fast to mind first kisses and the subsequent amassed

The last stroke of his hand gentle on your cheek

Heart palpitations electrifying your bones in a manner unique

You’re weak from his touch and everything he does

She’s your butterfly who stings like a bee when you hear her buzz.

This is not a love poem for singles covet

Wishing for someone to serve breakfast trays of orange juice and omelets

Solos are played out so now’s the time for a duet

The sunset’s losing its beauty because you watch it alone

This is not a love poem to make the broken hearted groan

Their sentiments are not too far from my own

You see, my last love poem never got read

I slit my thoughts to strips and no one watched as the words bled

So I vowed never again, never in the name of love will my ink be shed

This is not a love poem; let it be known.

Let it be heard.