I’m not in love with you.
I’m in love with the way the light burns in your eyes,
The way galaxies transcend us as you look into mine.
The way the sun and the stars shine just for you and I.

I’m not in love with you.
I’m in love with the way your fingers trail down my spine.
The way they leave in their wake a path that glows in the night.
The way one single touch can burn everything in sight.

I’m not in love with you.
I’m in love with the mornings, with you by my side.
Your arms as my pillow, our limbs intertwined.
Soft breaths fill the room in the new morning light.

I’m not in love with you.
I’m in love with the luxury of not being alone.
In love with the cardboard box we call home.
I’m in love with this sham that is all I have known.

I’m not in love with you.
I’m in love with the words that were never said.
I’m in love with the movies and books that I’ve read.
I’m not in love with you, I made you up in my head.

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6 thoughts on “I’m not in love with you.

  1. Very good, it flows very naturally and the gentle imagery juxtaposes against the hard denial in each first line, and I can’t help but pick up contempt in the final stanza, as if you were typing with lips drawn into a firm straight line and the keys were being pressed down hard (I have an active imagination, and I suspect you’re more pragmatic than you mean to show. This is a compliment; romance doesn’t get the bills paid). Suggestion, 3rd Stanza second line, stick a comma between mornings and with.

    Liked by 1 person

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