This Is Not A Romantic Poem

This is not a romantic poem.
It’s 11:30 at night
and I desperately
want you to text me back.
I’ve been waiting all day
to hear from you.
Should I text you again?
No,
you’ll respond eventually.
But this waiting game is agony.

This is not a romantic poem.
You cross my mind and I wonder:
if we were together what
would we be doing?
Sipping tea, talking, laughing,
telling stories.
All the things I want
but can’t have.
You’re so far away
and I want you here.

This is not a romantic poem.
At work I suddenly
remember the sound of your laugh,
your genuine laugh,
and I can’t stop a smile
from stretching across my face too.
I remember the times
we spent together, just you and me,
talking about everything
for hours,
in the car, in cafes,
on the floor in your bedroom.

This is not a romantic poem.
I let phone calls go through
to voicemails for everyone
but you.
I’ll talk to you anytime,
whenever you need me
or I need you.

This is not a romantic poem.
My heart beats faster
when you talk to me
and I can feel your nerves,
your excitement, your pain
in my pulse.
And sometimes I am
at a loss for
what to say or do,
when I know no words can change
anything inside your head.
But I want you to know —
and I know you know —
that I’m here, and I’m listening,
and I’d do anything for you.
You are my everything,
and I love you.
But this is not a romantic poem.

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2 thoughts on “This Is Not A Romantic Poem

  1. awww…!!! someone is crushed..!!! so touchy… 🙂

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