Connections

This is a poem called Connections. I normally like to have prints of my poems but until I unpack my printer I will store it here. Enjoy :)

Are you there? Can you see standing here? I appear to be near. 

How can you not see the shadows and feel my body heat. I crowd your heart 

and lay at your feet. God declared us one and here we are. I pulled on your wrist 

and you push against my soul. The emotion connection has stalled and I'm appalled.

We aren't fully engaged because as a child your emotions outlets have been blocked with rage.

I fight you to untangle your emotional web, and I give myself up emotionally to be dread. 

It's like a cherry blossom that has yet to bloom and I'm impatient as ever.

I want the emotional channel that every married couple endeavors.

Each soul is different, and some flowers even in the same bouquet take time to bloom.

Just because you connect the two bride and groom. It still takes time for love to become don't assume.

Maybe I'm love sappy, and full of Frank Sinatra. I can't get enough of it, like classic and light opera.

I can see this memo might be misunderstood, because no one is to understand.

The way we work but I can fuss about the errors because we are imperfect, let's leave the crowds crooked and deserted.

I crawl between the lines of my diary paper and complain about the world and the relationships in it.

This is my solitude and the escape that I get and as many would want to say I'm in doubt, this is legit.

Hoping to keep the reader hooked, let's put this way in the a simple terms for the cheesy lovers.

I planted a seed in a heart and water to make it grow, but God makes it grow is what me the person who is writing has discovered.

I'm kind of bummed and a little heavy at heart, because the when the cookie crumbles, I'm just falling apart. 

Blame it on my hormones and the menstrual to come, but I'm glad to vent on this paper, than get turnt up with bottom of Rum.

I would like Brie Cheese with this sad love poem whine. I could be a crowd pleaser but that's out of character and I'm a believer.

That after a tantrum child of five are crying their beating heart or will soon simmer like the kettle off the heat resting with thumb in mouth.

So here is this newlywed sits here writing her grims and blessing of a first year gift with mixed emotions and headed down south.

In time, I will gather years under my belt, but right now I'm like spinach that is wilt.

Eventually I will be a grand artifact in the museum of Marriage but as time passes me by I become aged and vintage. 

I will be a mural and I could absorbs more beauty and upstand the harsh critics.

Yet again it takes time and time tells all that will be. We cling to Jehovah who will open that cherry blossom up for me.

-Kavi_Kris