Tag Archives: poems about love

How it Ends

The photo of you
sitting in a field
of wildflowers
made you seem accessible—
and the picture
of your body
halfway into Mosquito Lake
seemed to indicate
you lived for adventure—
but the joy in your eyes
as you stood on Mt. Rainier
was in fact nontransferable
to life down below
where love waited its turn
for you to find it
as beautiful a destination
as the mangroves
in Costa Rica and now
the Redwoods are calling
and you are almost gone.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
7-26-17

 

How to Love an Introvert

Use caution always
approach slowly
and never unexpectedly
try to understand he doesn’t need you
or anyone else
unless your presence enhances
his perfectly honed
and preferred solitude
and try not to take it personally
when you realize planting seeds
and picking ripe raspberries
and making jam
are just a few of the many activities
your introvert enjoys most
while being alone
with the entertaining thoughts
inside his head
and don’t be surprised
that most of his days won’t include you
and you might sometimes
feel the frustration of not being necessary
and you might find yourself in tears
some nights
wishing for a balance of need
but your introvert is offering you
exactly what you are offering him
which happens to be everything
each of you have to give.

 

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
6-19-17

“The Sower” by Vincent van Gogh 1888

 

Terms

We haven’t
exactly
agreed
on what they are
since we began
in friendship
months ago
but it’s clear
that making love
(or maybe
it was just sex
to you)
isn’t going to be
the beautiful
connection
that causes
your desire
to lean
in my direction
or provoke
an honest
conversation
with the woman
you claim
is too fragile
for the truth.
But I need
to believe
in your integrity—
that it can exist
even if
you aren’t ready
to sign
on anyone’s
dotted line—
so I’ll be
your other love
only if she knows
she’s not
the only one.

DeMaris
5-28-17

“Meridian Street, Thawing Weather,” 1887 by T.C. Steele

How to Forgive

I can remember
with clarity
how much I hated
my father
after my mother told me
that he’d cheated
back when I was only
five years old
and for years
I couldn’t look at him
without feeling
like he betrayed me too
even though I read
Bridges of Madison County
twice
and watched the movie
seventeen times
and I loved the way
those two characters
loved each other
despite the fact
that Francesca was married
and I forgave them
for making love
on the living room floor
which is where
I’ve found myself lately
beside a man
who never meant
to become my lover
or the kind of man
who’d make it possible
for me to realize
how fast a grudge
can turn to empathy
and all of a sudden
I am the one who is sorry
for all those years
I acted like I could never
be swept away.

 

 

 

DeMaris
3-23-17

Pep Talk

Sometimes it’s helpful
to imagine yourself
on your deathbed
or on a ship
sinking in the Pacific
hours away from shore—
or at the doctor’s office
reviewing test results
that feel like a life sentence—
short, abbreviated, abridged.
Today could be your last
and might as well be—
you are living as if
you have time to kill—
as if he does too—
that man you love so much
you’ve been seeing stars
when you close your eyes—
but you witnessed
a car wreck just last week
and you slid on the same
black ice that flipped
that minivan upside down
with a life inside
crashing into the reality
that it doesn’t matter
how much time
you think you have—
all you need to do is
stop the car, turn around
and drive back
to where you left him
in front of the fire—
tell him your love
is as solid as a brick wall
and you’d like to invite him
to drive into it.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
3-7-17

Photograph by Bill Brandt, “Hallifax” 1937

Delicate

I love the way he loved her—
the way he felt his heart clinch
with a little madness
when he neared her house
after driving for what  seemed
like all day—
his tenderness
must have been born in that flame,
that delicate wish
that couldn’t come true
because she was already invested
in another—
and he loved her enough to leave
her life undisturbed and pure
for a future that wouldn’t include him
or his affection or his warmth—
which I am so fortunate to feel now
radiating into me.

 

 

DeMaris
2-6-17