Real love, good love

I want to write you a love song.

Deafen you with music

and blind you to who I really am;

a girl taught to please

in the gargoyle face of disappointment;

a girl eager to achieve anything

you ask, spoken or unspoken;

a girl who wishes she could find her ship

instead of cling onto your sails

for dear life and struggle with oars

belonging to someone else.


I want to write you a love song

which is neither bitter nor sweet;

a love song about you

and not me, inextricably caught up

in the fine line between worship

and real love, good love:

the kind which wakes you up

in the morning, kisses you

regardless of the sourness

on your breath.


The kind

which surprises me,

time and time again

because it is not about me

and my childhood, nor you

and what you’ve done;

it’s about us,

fresh and green,

leaves on the wind,

sparrows in the clouds,

twilight and rooting buds

blossoming upward, onward

into the sky.



© Kristiana Reed 2019

6 thoughts on “Real love, good love

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