When we think too much
We lose the love we just want to touch—
And presently, material things and gold
Will turn love into what we cannot hold.
What is love? When I thought a lot about this
I planned on how to get nearer for a kiss,
But when I thought about what I was actually kissing,
I don’t know, something was missing.
If she’s beautiful—but short—
I pause, and I think: maybe I won’t.
But if she’s beautiful and also tall, I don’t.
I don’t think. But everything makes us pause—
This is good for love, but unfortunately the laws
Of desire, even those which make us gasp—
Change when love is in our grasp.
Thoughts in love, which succeed,
Diminish the love as they diminish the need.
Of course failure from beginning to end
Is love that can’t even pretend
To be love; it is the partially successful
Which tortures the polite lover’s will
And turns us into a poet at last;
Doubting love today, I write about a past
Love, which, I feel, was too conditional.
Love should have been better—but I was ill,
With a variety of intellectual complaints.
Here are my words: She loves one who paints.
He makes her look good.
As for her? I understood
Exactly every particle which flew
Directly out of her into me. I better love you.