Most of my poems are about love for people or things and over the years I just learned to doll them up to avoid repetition. It’s poetry survivalism, and once I did it long enough I started to believe it all, probably the reason for these deep romantic inclinations while the rest of me is not wholly developed. I don’t know whether to call my feelings naive or not. Certainly I made mistakes in the past hoping for some ideal or coming off as desperate, but I still come from a position of “love.”
Most likely I over-analyze it, but damn–when you get the opportunity to build a description of a person and it fills out with all these great things….
Anyway, I am just regurgitating thoughts. Loneliness and my generally lovestruck self get the best of me. If I was trying to write well you wouldn’t see so many passive verbs.