Thursday, August 6, 2009

Rooms

Your eyes are buckets of love
That spill onto your shoulders.
You wear a white shirt that is now stained
Because love is red, and it has made you a mess.
You can’t read anymore,
Because your own story is always on your mind;
It’s the story of your love,
And how you planned to splosh it all around,
Filling every one of these rooms,
Washing us all in a comfort and attention
That is so delicate and beautiful,
So long as you know how to swim.

4 comments:

GbiZ said...

Okay, but shouldn't it be something like "Washing us all in the comfort and attention", since it's the story of a planned love drowning and not an actual love drowning? Does that make sense?

Spencer Troxell said...

Yes. Thanks for the suggestion.

Alpha:Omega said...

Love is a good topic for a psychologist to philosophize on. To me it can be lumped in there with the hallucinations of religion. Either way i think hallucinations are entertaining such as love and religion. Great poem too, i liked it. Here is one of my fav love poems:

I'm a nobody
No one special
A nothing-

Yet even i am loved,
Even i am the master,
Of someone elses soul.

i dont know who wrote it, it just hangs on my wall.

Spencer Troxell said...

Have you ever read a book called 'Enduring Love'?, or seen the movie adaptation (which was very good) There's a lot of commentary on the physiological basis of love in it. I'd be interested to hear your thoughts on it.