Not About Love

I don't have anything new to compose. 

From excessively numerous recastings 

The material has developed fragile. 

It's best to discover another 

What's more, stay away from these awkward hands – 

I won't expound on adoration. 

I won't expound on a heart that moans 

Against tense lines mooring it to a dock; 

I won't expound on how easily 

The lashes slid from your moonlit shoulders; 

I won't expound on what moved your hands 

To shield my wrists from me; 

I won't expound on why I bring down my head 

To kiss those hands rising when you relax; 

I won't rework words officially composed – 

I unquestionably won't expound on adoration. 

In any case, when you remain in my entryway 

Head somewhat positioned, 

Also, get some information about – 

I will follow the evening light 

That fragments into stems 

Blossoming at your feet, 

Also, answer, without even a tiny bit of incongruity, 

"Love."