sideways love poems

Love is complicated and weird and often unhealthy. This collection of sideways love poems looks at love from around corners and behind barricades.

Looking for sweet, inspirational love poems for your darlings? This is not the place. You have been warned.

love in a bottle

Drink me down,
my love,
let me fill your veins,
take the reins,
soothe your pains.

Lick the poison
from my lips,
let me lead you
out to sea.
When you wash up
on the beach,
dry tongue
tasting of regret,
I will be waiting,
siren in a bottle.

watermelon days

At first, their love
was cool and sweet.
They scooped it
into their mouths,
juice streaming
down their chins.
Seeds of conflict
popped between
their teeth, piquant,
fibrous, bitter.
At last, all they had
was an empty rind,
memories of their
watermelon days.

infatuation

The soft whisper
of a summer breeze.
The warm breath
of a hot night.
The lush aria
of ecstasy.
She wove them all
into a sensual song,
an incantation
of infatuation,
a hastily scribbled
love spell lasting
only one night.

soft spot

She had a soft spot.

Some days, it was her brain,
adding up the reasons
she would always be alone.

Others, it was her heart,
bleeding with every beat,
mourning her ex the way
only viscera could.

She sighed softly and cursed
the mobility of vulnerability.

dandelion

She made toweringly
bad decisions,
closed her eyes,
and leapt into the air,
clutching a parachute
of adrenaline
and blowing
like a dandelion seed
from one crisis
to the next.

…until one day
she landed on solid ground
and dared to grow roots
before she could drift away.

rosetta stone

Her texts were
the Rosetta Stone,
a lexicon of longing
and love gone wrong,
a trail of breadcrumbs
that led anywhere
and everywhere
except back
to her heart.

So he learned a new language
and traveled the world
until bitter memories
made room for something
fresh and different
and sweet.

love bomb

He loves with
military precision,
hurling rapid-fire
compliments,
explosive gifts,
shrapnel #serenades,
bombing his targets
until they feel
a stunned affection,
a trembling fondness
that smells like
gunpowder,
tastes like defeat.

new world

she roared like
a billion
dying stars

he howled like
a trillion
hungry voids

their duet broke
the universe
and forged it
anew

lyre

liar with a lyre
singing songs of
love
lust
trust
doom

dance in the fire
heart on the pyre
flames licking
higher
higher
higher

until your heart
is ash, the liar
is

gone

bad serenade

she obeyed his serenade,
cut off her loose ends,
said goodbye to her friends,
locked herself into a box
and danced to his tune,
twirling
twirling
twirling
twirling
until up was down
night was noon
captivity was freedom

siren

She was a siren
who crashed
into rocks,
luring the
baddest boys,
the hardest cases
to her pastel home,
serving them tea
and crumpets,
trying to crack
their tough shells
and ending up
with bruises
on her heart.

fallen

Gasping, trembling,
heart fluttering
like a caged bird,
stomach floating,
queasy joy stuck
in her throat.
Exhilaration
of velocity,
anticipation
of atrocity.

A fall into boiling love,
a tumble into the abyss.

fallen angel

It was always the
same argument,
she was always
on her knees,
aching from
the marble tile.
“I am sick of
worshipping you,”
she was saying
when the blow fell.
She toppled backwards,
streaked through
the heavens,
crashed into Earth
with broken wings.

The Devil lived.

false heart

She follows her heart
as it flies over the field.
She moves swiftly,
eyes fixed on
a pine scented future
shaped like a man,
never looking back,
never looking down.

Then a crunch,
a gasp,
a plummet
into a humid,
slippery mire.

Her heart is a liar.

leaving

In the pale dawn light,
birds trilled a warning,
go, go, go, go, go.
Her bruises made a map
of her homeland,
showed her the way.
She slid walking boots
onto her feet,
pulled a #mantle of ice
around her heart,
and left.

Again.

flew

She didn’t fall in love,
twisting in midair,
staring at the ground,
dreading the inevitable
.
.
.
splat.

This time, she flew in love,
soaring over doubts,
buoyed by hope and joy,
laughing at
.
.
.
gravity

louche

The louche passenger
nestles in my heart
and floods my veins
with liquid need,
drowning me
in narcotic desire,
loosing the coils
of inhibition.
It purrs softly
in my ears
and peers
from my eyes,
always wondering,
Is he the one?
Is he?

insecure

Insecurity struck
hard and deep,
played to win,
played to keep.
Even a barrage
of endearments
softly whispered
could not assuage
the dark montage
of shadowy doubts,
the mapping of
escape routes,
the certainty
it was over
when it was just
beginning…
Is he?
Is he?
Is he?

magnetism

He is magnetic.
The iron in her blood
is her motive,
it tugs her to him,
traitorous cell to
traitorous cell,
stringing a current
along fingers
that tap out
the combination
to a dark lock,
an infinite recursion
of push and pull,
rip and sew,
come and go.