Love… Is a bed you make.
Love…
You got an idea of it right
Forehead kisses and long goodbyes
Butterflies dancing around a ballroom
You’ve always referred to as your stomach
Or maybe just maybe
It’s like the warmth of a weighted blanket
Not too tight that it constricts you
But instead freeing all the while losing control
Or maybe just maybe
It’s like the cushion of a pillow
Not too light that it escapes you
But instead firm all the while encompassing softness
Or maybe just maybe
It’s like the silk of a sheet
Not too thick that it traps you
But instead breathable all the while taking your breath away
Love…
You see
It’s comfort in knowing today’s troubles
Are met with forehead kisses and goodnight
Pulled back blankets and fluffed pillows
Bodies pressed against silk sheets
Stars dancing in the sky
Butterflies in the ballroom
You always referred to as your stomach
About this poem
It’s about how love can be found in the places you make it quite literally. Love is something you pour into daily. It can be left a mess of it can be made. Look for the love instead of the lost hope.
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Written on April 24, 2024
Submitted by ashleycalloway0225 on April 24, 2024
- 47 sec read
- 0 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | Abxcd Exfx Exfx Exfx Aexbxx xcd |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 871 |
Words | 158 |
Stanzas | 6 |
Stanza Lengths | 5, 4, 4, 4, 6, 3 |
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"Love… Is a bed you make." Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 13 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/186998/love…-is-a-bed-you-make.>.
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