I’ve tried to write a poem about
love but it’s come out like this:

I can only heave my heart into my mouth
so many times before what I’ve been trying
to say gets lost,
turned to acid as I vomit.                                                                                                               This is for you, because
I’ve been thinking about the comfort that
I experience while feeling your gaze rest upon me,
the softness in your eyes.

This is for you,
because you were under me,
your cheeks flushed,
your mouth open in a small “o.”
You looked surprised even with
your heavy-lidded gaze, and
with every touch you shivered
like you did when I bit your earlobe.

I did not expect a you to be so much softer.
Not because of your breasts, or your soft perfect curves,
but because your mouth was soft
and gentle even when we
were kissing hard enough to shake the earth,
teeth clashing hard enough to startle me
each time with the small jolt
of pain.

Olivia McKnight