Lovesick, poetry by Claire L. Marsh at
Marco Testi



written by: Claire L. Marsh



Why am I so obsessed with your face?
It’s comprised of bones, skin and all the stuff in between
Not physiologically special or of biological note
Yet to me it’s spectacular, wonderful and unique
I see it and my lips want me to smile
My stomach flips a little and my head feels all floaty
My days of crushing and pining were supposed to stay far enough back
For me to be serious and professional and complete all my taxes
But instead, I’m imaging licking sweat off your forehead

Why am I so obsessed with your voice?
It’s not particularly deep, or raspy or boomy
I mean it’s nice and it’s crisp and you’re probably talking sense
And it matches so well with the rest of your body
In that I wish I could trap it and keep it forever
When you say something nice to me, I’m practically unfurling
There’s a metaphor in there about photosynthesis but you’re a distraction
So, instead I’ll just protest everything sounds good in your accent
That it’s not fair, it’s not just and stop doing it on purpose

If I was a stalker or a serial killer this all would make sense
I could visualise your perfect skin as my lampshade
Your exquisite eyes dangling from my earlobes with splendour
There are other parts I would use of that I don’t doubt
My investment of time and imagination would seem prudent
And the silly need for you to feel the same would never apply
I do really wish this felt like something I’d do
But the effort and tidy up seem far too committing
So, I’ll probably just go back to swooning over your chest
(Which would make a rather elegant mantelpiece ornament).

Latest posts by Claire L. Marsh (see all)