Loves

Special thanks to the poet who inspired me to write this poem for rekindling my love for writing :)

I love frozen air
and the way it pierces my lungs
as I blaze down the straight away
I’m first.
I love being first.
With clear skies up ahead
and a swirl of dark dust spiraling
for miles and miles behind me.
I love the stone cold ground
and the patter of my rubber soles against it
and how it listens to my silent singing thoughts

I mostly love that it’s there,
in the rain and the snow
on Thanksgiving and Christmas
And I love that I love it
And that it loves me back.

You know what I really love?
I love sparkly nail polish and French vanilla tea
and the smell of freshly peeled Clementines.

I love the language of a poem,
heart language I call it
I love sailing away in its current
humming to it’s perfect pitch

Or something as simple as the passenger’s seat-
I love the passenger’s seat with the window down
and the sunroof open
with my hair twisting and tangling and dancing
on my freckled face

I love how he paces
back and forth and back again
while he waits for me
I absolutely love that he waits for me,
just for me,
and no one else

To be honest, I’ve never really loved black and white:
exponential functions or lines of longitude.
or twelve point Times New Roman font,
though I know some who do.
But for me, I love the bristles of my paint bush
I love gracing the page, investing complete assurance
in my hand,
and my heart.

I love Shakespeare;
when the struggle is over and the king is dead
And my teachers says “Read me your book number
then put it in the box.”

I laugh about meaningless things,
like when people walk by wearing matching rain coats
or when eggs splatter on my black tile kitchen floor
simply because I love to laugh
I laugh at my mommom because she laughs at me,
because she thinks my chaotic stressful world is just as crazy
as her demented one
And the funny thing is, I think she’s right
so we laugh
and laugh
and laugh
And I love it.

I love my future
because it’s boundless and
because it’s perfect right now,
in my mind
with flower boxes and a tomato garden
and Christmas tree ornaments from years past

I love that my loves are limitless,
open, silent, simple, tied into bunny ears
like the purple shoe laces on my converse sneakers
I love that they’re mine to feel,
that they’re tiny shards of who I am
that they create me.

I just love it, I really do.