Poem by Jacob Thunder

Head over heels? Nah.
Nobody’s tripping here
Because for the first time in my life
My feet are firmly on the ground
There’s no question – This is what love is
But I don’t love you to the moon and back
Because two hundred and thirty eight thousand, eight hundred and fifty five miles just isn’t enough
You see, our love isn’t just a metaphor, or a simile.
It’s real.
It’s not a weekend in Paris
Or a pleasant stroll along the beach
It’s nights in ordering pizza and milkshakes
It’s never being able to decide on a film
It’s constant arm tickles
It’s the feeling of your perfect head falling asleep on my chest
So no
I will not compare thee to a summer’s day
I’d much sooner compare thee to a rainy winter’s eve
We’re cuddled in bed
You’re wearing my favourite camouflage jumper
We’re fighting over the comfy pillow.
So I’m sorry, but our love is not like any fucking poem I’ve ever read.


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