Pour l’amour de ma vie
I’ve always loved writing poetry. Since I was a kid, I would scribble poetic lines in my diary—some of sense, some of nonsense. But it was a good muscle to keep flexing. As I got older and fell in love at the tender (and sensible) age of 24, I started feeling more open to my feelings. I became more vulnerable, more attune with my feelings and heart, and began translating such emotion into poems. Today, I have two notebooks full of poems. Some good, some not so good, which I am okay with admitting. Some very funny, some way too sensual. But, within that blend are a few about him too.
Three years ago in South Bend I wrote this poem called, “Mon Beau Gendarme.” It rhymes, which might look funny to some, but it’s got a lot of meaning to me despite the literary qualms. I know the rhyming format is becoming more and more out of favor with scholars and English majors because the style comes off forced and unnatural, but this poem is always going to be more about him and I—the foundational dynamics between us. And I think that’s what poetry is all about. Look at the greats. Their work holds greater meaning to the sole, specific reader, with each poem paying its own homage to the roots of a relationship. It reveres love, admiration and affection in its own way through shared moments and harmony, and that’s all that matters.
I’ve never been comfortable with sharing my poetry online because, let’s be honest, procrastinators working on last minute English assignments can be a pain if you get my drift. But I wanted to share this one in particular because it meant something to me. It still does. Its meaning is something I live with everyday. And I know it meant something to him too. During the fall of 2014, I sent it to him via email. And in my heart, gut, soul even, I know he read it. I know him better (or worse) than he realizes. I also have a feeling he read it several times over the course of our relationship. I know it. I just feel it and I’m never going to waver on my gut ever again.
Whether he realizes it or not, whether he believes it as the skeptic that he is, we were real. And I love him and always, always will.