I call him love

I was hollow, once

still am

just knock, knock, knock

call out and you’ll hear yourself

for days behind my ribcage.

 

except I’ve been building

something special

in my quiet, novice way

dragging my tools to the

old shed out back in the rain,

plugging away in the half-light.

 

I call him love,

I keep him on a shelf

imperfectly painted green,

or turquoise,

 or maybe the exact shade

of some body of water from

some time I can’t really remember.

 

He’s by the only window, love

where the only ray of sunlight creeps in

and he grows and grows and grows

and sometimes we talk, but he’s still learning

and I know love loves me like I love him.

 

 

 

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10 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized, Writing

10 responses to “I call him love

  1. I loved this. Sad and beautiful.

  2. Once again, your words make me weep and smile at the same time.

  3. Melancholy is my favorite emotion, for some reason. I thought it was romance, but that’s the emotion I WISH was my favorite.

    You write beautifully, as always, Nicole.

  4. Pingback: Curated Poetry: Ward Clever In No Particular Order – Ward Clever

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