— Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez, (via madmalice)
I. This one starts out detailing the frustration of using language to describe the feeling of love. Next is a detailed description of an intimate moment between two lovers. It is then followed by, ‘there is no word to describe that’. The reality is, there are words to describe that. They just had to be arranged in a way to communicate such a feeling, exactly. This one is boring.
II. This one is a bit sadder. Maybe it’s a breakup poem. Here is some imagery that involves blood. This one is some kind of methadone, some kind of way to take away the sharp edge of losing love. Here’s the map of personal destruction, the anatomy of separation, the hole you want to crawl into. This one is a battle scar.
III. This one emotionally undresses for you while you gaze through the keyhole. Maybe it is the freckle underneath a lover’s breast. You’d like to think you are the only one who has seen it. Maybe this one is a hunger for familiar flesh, or a manifesto of a steady fuck. There are detailed descriptions of the naked Sunday morning religion. This one is a lovesick striptease. Too bad it ends too soon.
IV. Ah, this one is a goddamn masterpiece. It is marked in permanent ink in the bathroom of a dive bar. The last bit is a handful of numbers.
V. This one tries too hard and compares love to the ocean, or maybe outer space. Love is not the ocean. Despite what you’ve been told, love isn’t all we need. Love is never enough to make a soldier lay down his weapon. Putting flowers on a bayonet is a dangerous idea. Don’t you go swimming deep into the ocean thinking there will be love down there. Love is in accident. Don’t go looking for accidents.”
— Brandon Speck, “Five Naked Love Poems” (via brandonspeck)