i am 48 years old, and i have loved and lost <br />so many times, <br /> the pains that do not hurt anymore <br />come like trickles of rain not ripping any skin with <br />cold, <br />those that ripple sadness do not make any sound, <br />love, <br />does not intimidate me anymore, <br />neither does it make me quiver, <br />or long <br />for more, <br /> <br />i am 48 years old and had taken lust as creamer <br />to my bitter and black coffee, <br />stares at the window and never cares who gets <br />in and gets out of my door, <br />this room is empty <br />and these blankets are washed <br />as often as they get dirty, twice a week or thrice <br /> <br />and this floor gives the sounds of stilleto shoes <br />and hushes and moans, and there was no love <br />requiring a better sofa to lay my head upon, <br /> <br />or some romantic roses as accent on the blue <br />glass vase, <br /> <br />i am 48 years old, and still in love with you, <br /> <br />can do nothing about it babe, <br />memories bring more memories <br />like a stack of fantasies, and so here i am back to square one <br /> <br />writing you a love poem like tendrils of a vine <br />looking for the best tree to climb upon <br />until i reach that place where i can see you <br />sleeping in your room. <br />and i will be there for long <br />glancing <br /> <br />i do not wish that you love me too. <br />This poem serves the purpose. <br /> It is just a matter of remembering. <br />How can i ever forget <br />You.Yes, it is still you.<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-thought-i-cannot-write-a-love-poem-anymore/
