Dec 02
pbellomo2021's picture

A Prose of Love: to myself


I wish I could love you the way I loved him. 

I want to meet you. 

We’ve been talking so long, I know so much, 

But understand so little. 

I need to know you. 

All you’re little things, 

And inner motivations. 

Everything that makes you, 

You.

So that when I look up at the stars, 

I don't turn left and right. 

And wonder where you are. 

You are not a single star, 

But an entire constellation coming to life. 

You belong in the sky, 

Not just from where I stand, 

But in the universe. 

I cannot gaze as far as the telescopes, 

But I trust in the unknown.