A common cliché
to litter my poetry with.
To some a disease, 
in sickness and in health, 
distracting and authentically 
sweet, too much, not enough
and perfection 
all at once. 
It boggles the mind. 
Leaves us drunk and cloudy,
thinking  in curls of ribbon,  
satin rivers of rose petals and 
vows of forever. 
A physical ailment -
tightening of chest. 
Heart, tied on a string and attached 
to another's. 
This tug of war, 
not competing but still 
winning everything and 
losing ourselves beautifully. 
It's a person,
a memory,
the smell of skin and 
the taste of saliva, 
the sound of words, 
their words,
and t shirt material to the touch. 
A thought
Action 
Fight 
Flight 
Hunger 
Fullness
Everything 
and absolutely nothing at all. 
Cannot be plucked from a selection box of delights.
It's not tangible, 
probable,
all manner of -ibles and -ables. 
Having enough and being enough.
It's in us
and for us
it's me and it's you. 
It is us
side by side or 
spread over galaxies 
like butter, 
It's 
Lovely. 

- amare è essere amati - 

Thoughts.

From the moment I discovered I liked writing poetry, I attempted on countless occasions to try and tackle the whole ‘love poetry’ thing. I was curious, and found it very interesting that so many people all wanted to dedicate their words to it. As time passed, I decided there were so many other things to write about, and ended up finding the words I wanted on other topics faster. I will admit, I’m not exactly your “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day” kind of poet, so I would write about what came easier to me. Love seemed so large, so overwhelming, and so beyond my own singular comprehension.

Now I wasn’t completely wrong. But I have recently turned my mind back to it. I realised that love is something so important, and serves as one of the main driving forces of human beings (along with money, but frankly I don’t have the energy to get political right now, perhaps another day…). It’s so delightful in its own confusing way, and can make people do the best and most stupid things.

That’s why there are so many poems about it. There are songs, books, films about it. There’s so much art about it. So many people are fighting for it, be that among races, genders, religions or countries. It’s why we all feel hate and sadness. We have to, in order to be able to recognise and feel the absolute joy of loving people too.

The Italian line (one of the most romantic languages in my opinion) translates as “to love is to be loved”. It encapsulates the whole thing for me, explaining that it’s as important to allow ourselves to be loved by others, and by ourselves, as it is to love others. We all feel it and we all need it, and unquestionably giving love is as beautiful as unquestionably receiving it.

As cheesy as it is, I really do think that the Beatles were on to something when they said “All You Need Is Love”.