Everyone always strives to define love,
but I don’t have to worry about that with you
lover.
I hear the crushed couple next door
screaming at each other
through the thin wall;
their passion transmuted
through frustration.
They are in love,
but not lovers;
their definition as distinct as a severe shadow
caused by their combined object blocking out the sun;
spitting in the face of joy is their love,
but the passion of your face is my joy,
lover.
Bird wings float in yellow sunshine,
your crimson heartbeat against mine.
Rules, restrictions & obligations define love;
being free from those, we have only crescendos,
lover.
Laughing at my Proustian reverie,
you’re my daydream in skinny jeans.
People may grow old in love,
but time is non-existent with you my lover.
We can have one, not the other
my love/lover