Emmy Appleseed

Love is such a lovely thing to write about.

On Twitter for a while, I was keeping a 

“How to Love a Poet” list.

I’ve been in love once or twice.

But love always seems to come in the wrong package. Somebody loves you and you most certainly do not love them. You fall in love only long enough to fall right back out of it.

I think that might be the worst, you’re able to taste just how great it is and then POOF! it’s gone.

sigh.

It’s enough to make a poet give up all this love stuff once and for all. But one of the things I have absolutely no control over is my ability to love.

I’m like a big cuddlebug.
I wear my heart on my sleeve.
I write poetry.

I don’t think I’ll be able to give up on love anytime soon here despite my attempts otherwise. In the meantime, I guess I’ll still daydream writing my love poems, drink wine, watch sex & the city, at least those ladies commiserate

and wait for my knight in shining armor
or wait until i’m called upon to be
some gent’s lady in shining stilettos

dreaming lexemes in
the meantime

ms. emily d stine