Branisha Meekins lives and writes in Williamsburg, Virginia.

Confessions of Love
By Branisha Meekins

Maturity is a virtue, one you lack, most of the time
Your love for me keeps you blind or is it your negligence
Saying aloud what I
     Know
             Feel
                 Am
Contemplating your reaction before I speak
Sanity in my thoughts

Arguments about Arguments
I apologize, then you
You apologize, then me
Simplicity is key

Love is an open book; Here is my book:
Hardcover
Acknowledgements
Table of contents
Chapter 1 through… what?
             our story isn’t over yet
thousands of words
metaphors
similes.
Your book:
untouched
bare
vacant.
I don’t know what you don’t express

Demonstration over Confession
Not only for me; for you
Crossing a line is not the starter’s pistol
As it should an everyday purpose

I don’t want our love to be a Fireball
small sparks generate flames
             growing larger and wilder
             spreading through our bodies; warm and tingly
             the ends of our hair, fingertips, toes
             out of control
             yellows and oranges form a fierce red
             the color of love
All fires come to an end slowly but surely; prohibiting restoration