Not Like The Movies

True love is not like the movies;
It is not always all singing and all dancing,
It doesn’t always hit you like a lightning bolt,
More often it is slow, and unassuming,
and so quiet that,
Sometimes,
You wouldn’t even know it was there.

True love is not like the movies;
There are no moments of remorseful epiphany
leading to grand gestures of love,
Just days of cold shoulders
and cupboard slamming,
Until one of you asks,
“Would you like some tea?”
And the other replies,
“That would be nice thank you, yes.”

True love is not like the movies;
There are few offices bursting at the seams
with red roses ‘just because’,
There are just toilet seats finally put down,
And piles of mashed potatoes
sort of in the shape of a heart.
Sort of.
If you squint.

True love is not like the movies;
There are no mid sentence kisses
to the backdrop of conveniently timed fireworks
that will steal away your breath,
There are just tight lipped pecks
adorned with toast crumbs
as you go in opposite directions
on the morning commute.

True love is not like the movies;
Your partner will break wind
and
it
will
smell,
You will fight – without the make-up sex,
Sometimes there will be no sex at all,
Lots of times there will be no sex at all,
Middles will spread and hairs will thin,

Someone will get sick,

You will argue about money,
You will hate each other at least once,
OK, maybe a little more than once,
You will do battle, sometimes with each other,
But more often together, against the world,
You will take it in turns to be the rock,
To cheer each other up,
To be a shoulder, an ear, a hand, a crutch,
You will witness the passage of each others lives
and your own will be better for it,
You will learn and you will grow,
You may feel empty at times, sure,
But mostly you will feel fulfilled,
You will overflow,
You will overcome,
you will endure.
Because true love is not like the movies;
It is real,
It is endless,
It is not bound by the rules of life and death,
It is perfectly imperfect,
And it never fails.

True love is not like the movies;
it’s better.

First Love

You held my hand when I was young
and when I looked up, I saw more than my father,
I saw the the first man I would ever love
and the mould for each man thereafter.

You showed me the beauty of strength
when it is blended with a gentle core,
How I should appreciate all that I have,
But that it’s still OK to strive for more.

You taught me the value of family,
And that the brain is vessel to feed,
You taught me selflessness and humility,
And the world between want and need.

You taught me how to seek respect,
And showed me how to self reflect,
From you I learned how to reach for the stars
and how to never accept anything less.

All this and more you have shown me,
And for all this and more I give praise,
You have made me the woman that I am
and I’ll love to ’til the end of my days.

Can’t you see my happy face?

Can’t you see my happy face?
I’m smiling, can’t you see?
These are tears of joy, you know,
Your blessings gladden me.

Can’t you see my happy face?
It’s the best news the world,
I can’t wait to meet your little one,
Whether boy or whether girl.

(Can’t you see my empty space?
The hole inside my heart?
I may feel glad at what you have,
But I’m also torn apart…)

Can’t you see my happy face?
I’m ecstatic, and it shows,
I’m happy that you’re happy,
And that’s the only truth you’ll know.

Hush Child

Hush child,
Close your eyes,
Shutter out the world
and let the stillness fill your mind.

Hush child,
Hold my hand,
Feel its warmth and strength
and know the might it can withstand.

Hush child,
Take a breath,
Let it fill your lungs
and feel the lightness lift your chest.

Hush child,
Lean on me,
Let me take your hurt
and be your rock when you’re in need.

Hush child,
It will pass,
Pain is part of life,
But rest assured that it won’t last.

I am a Poem

I am a poem.

A complicated tide
of elements that collide
with purpose.

I can make you feel
electrified,
terrified,
alive inside.

I am niche.

I am gauche.

A guilty pleasure.

A hint of something
that was once so
treasured.

Bad and good
in equal measure.

No value in life…
perhaps in death?

I’ll give
until there’s nothing left.

I am a poem
that’s seldom read
and even then
I’m oft
mis-
read.

I just want to make you feel…
To evoke in you
some buried zeal.

But I am words
and it would seem
no words
can set my essence
free.

Poetry by Lucie Edwards Copyright 2015 All Rights Reserved

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