Love Letters and Candy Hearts, Part I

I love Love, its strangeness, its capability to stretch, expand, burst. Love plummets, dives, floats—sometimes, dotes, speaking in foreign tongues and sweating, too hot to be this happy. And Love, it lasts, Everlasts, diamond-tough and death-sure. We live for Love. Laughing. Languishing. We cry for it, sigh for it, soak it in our skin like sunscreen. Love Lotion Number Nine. And this time, Love, my skin burns, lobster red, turning pink under the stars.

For the month of February, I sent out a mission to the masses: write an on-the-spot poem (or create on-the-spot art, photography,etc.) about romance, sex, heartbreak—write about any of it, but make it pertain to the four-letter king of hearts: Love.

I’ll be posting the submissions over the next week or so, and I hope they bring a little flame of “I’ve been there,” or “I wish I had it that good.” And this first entry contains poetry from bloggers like me, 20-somethings who dared to try their hand at on-the-spot, to try their hand at love. 

An on-the-spot poem about her
written by ‘Lip of 20SB

If I could punctuate with a kiss I would
but all I ever do is miss with words
it’s not that they don’t flow inside of me
just that you can’t open your eyes to see
that I’m not a poet or crafter of words
I dabble in rhythms and rhymes so absurd.

But words aren’t attractive like muscles and cars
they don’t get you laid when drinking at bars
so I’ll just sit back as you hold his hand
holding in feelings my heart can’t withstand
let’s make this clear and not misunderstood
If I could punctuate with a kiss, I would.

Find ‘Lip at

An on-the-spot poem about finding love
Written by Harley of 20SB

I’m not a cautious virgin
I’ve had boyfriends before
But I don’t think that I ever knew
That love consists of more

Than sex three times a day
And sex four times a night
I thought that love was screamy sex,
Then screaming vicious fights.

But now I have a new love
That’s changed my point of view
We still have sex all day and night
But now we cuddle too.

He doesn’t mind my moodswings
He laughs when I try to sing
He laughs at all my shitty jokes
(And that counts for something)

He tells me that he loves me
And he ignores that I shed
My hair across his pillows
And all over the bed.

He’s handsome and he’s smart,
He’s awesome and he’s mine,
I’m glad that this year coming
He’ll be my Valentine!

So that’s enough of the cheesiness
I know that I’ve been sappy,
But we’re going out two years now
And I’ve never been so happy!

Harley is a 24-year-old Irish girl with too much time on her hands. You can find her at No Pressure, No Diamonds. 

It’s all in the lips.

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