Poetry by Melissa Mann

Love – a series of short sharp shocks

I don’t know what it is.
Maybe it has arms and legs
And hands and feet,
The way it kicks,
The way it makes
A fist of its upper hand
Trying to punch
Its way out
Of your heart.
Maybe when you weigh it
It’s like a pound
Of flesh.
Or maybe it’s just
A pounding,
Your heart coughing
Inside your chest.
Or maybe there’s nothing to it,
Like a ghost.
Maybe it’s like a ghost
That doesn’t know
It’s a ghost.
I don’t know what it is.

She sits there
In the middle of
The rest of her life,
Making a list headed:
‘Men I have loved
But wouldn’t want to love.’

He has a theory
That no one
Really loves
But themselves.

She has a theory
That you can
Make yourself
Love anyone.

I have a theory
That love is both
True and false
At the same time.

He throws her heart
at the wall
to see how she feels
about him.

When it breaks he knows
she loves him.


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