sitting with the rest of the love drunk poets

she kisses me

and i know her lips must be poetry

for nothing else

could ever make me feel this way-

i have been cold

while the world has been burning

but now,

i've felt fire

and i stand with the poets

who speak of love so strong

it outshines the sun,

who compare it to a magnificent adventure

filled with sunrises and sunsets so beautiful that they cannot be perceived by the mortal eye,

who cannot make the warmth of love tangible with ink and their own two hands-

who cannot write a single string of words

worthy of explaining such a glorious passion-

i stand with the ones

who believe their sweethearts

are the stars

the moon

and the sun,

who believe true love

should not have to hide

she kisses me deeply

and i crash into heaven

with the rest of the poets

who have let their hearts

be their guide