Love Comes Out

Location

What I say is what I mean.

When I can get it out.

When it doesn't sound like

uh,

um,

ah,

oh,

sorry.

I mean,

I mean it then too,

but I don't know if they wanna hear it.

I mean,

it's all good,

when it's not planned to the inflection.

I gotta get it out and I gotta not think.

I mean,

there are only about four people who hear it all,

who really really hear it and don't pass it off.

I tell too many stories,

it sounds like all about me and all about this and all about that.

I'm candid,

say what I think,

only sometimes what I feel

(gosh, those ones are harder to get out).

Have you ever felt like

your teeth are a fence,

and your thoughts are dogs that might terrify the neighbors

if they got out in the open?

So yeah, sometimes it's hidden,

sometimes I feel scary,

sometimes I feel too much.

Always I'm feeling,

feeling love for the whole wide world.

Not everyone understands that.

I have to filter the love so I can filter the strange looks.

People don't like it when you burst out with love.

But I do it all the time.

I’m crazy with love,

after I spent too long denying it from myself to myself,

after I spent too long with anger weighing me down.

I’m done with that and I’m making up for it.

There’s no rhyme or reason to how I’m doing this,

no rhythm to my march towards love.

But I’m finding love and I’m giving love.

I love you, words.

I love how you open my eyes,

making tears come and making me see the world anew.

I love you, running.

I love how you make my body move,

how I am so pure and free with you.

I love you, ocean.

I love how you are so mysterious,

with your constant ebb and flow.

I love you, people.

I love that I am loved by you

and that you are so human.

And finally,

I love you, me.

I love that I can say that now.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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