Each from Different Heights by Stephen Dunn

(i’m just realizing that i stole from this poem recently….it’s one that is ingrained in my mind.)

 

That time I thought I was in love

and calmly said so

was not much different from the time

I was truly in love

and slept poorly and spoke out loud

to the wall

and discovered the hidden genius

of my hands. 

And the times I felt less in love,

less than someone,

were, to be honest, not so different

either. 

Each was ridiculous in its own way

and each was tender, yes,

sometimes even the false is tender.

I am astounded

by the various kisses we’re capable of.

Each from different heights

diminished, which is simply the law.

And the big bruise

from the longer fall looked perfectly white

in a few years.

That astounded me most of all.

 

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