Civilization

My love for you isn’t just a feeling
it’s a civilization.

A group formed in unorganized noise,
a commotion of expression,
purposely existing for the sole purpose of you.

Living and breathing,
a jumbled language overheard,
stenciled with each patter of foot,
every horn honked,
each lane clogged with the thought of you.

A foundation built from the ground up,
a means to explore.
A stone age modernized,
misinterpreted by the desire for fire.

Protected.
Built upon.
Built into the tallest building,
where I call your name.

My love for you is like the plane that flies overhead,
roaring loud in repetition,
tedious nooks & crannies,
places to shop, things to see
all the things I see when I look into your eyes.

My love for you is a province of sorts,
the smell seared in a pan,
best served on a plate for two.

A mix of different pastas, vegetables,
fried in an upbeat café,
different aromas,
the chit chat different versions of me,
complimenting the very essence of you.

A new building erected,
with cranes and steel beams,
plastered drywall,
soon opened for your arrival.