Relationship Poem Quotes

“I don’t know why we fight.
It takes much too effort to stay mad at you.
To dodge your skin in the hallway
and leave the kitchen without bringing you a treat.
It takes much too effort to stare at the sink
so my eyes don’t smile at you in the mirror.
It takes much too effort to look away as we undress
and lie apart in the now bigger bed.
It takes much too effort to stiffen my body
because sleepy limbs forget fights
and pride is always lost in dreams.
It takes much too effort to awaken every hour to make sure we are islands with a gulf of white sheets separating us.
I dread the light peeking through the parted curtains
and empathise with your groans —
I didn’t get any sleep either.
I really don’t know why we fight.
It takes much too effort to stay mad at one another
when it’s so easy for us to love.”
― Kamand Kojouri

“You are the stars hidden by clouds. I know you’re there even when I can’t see you. Your shine peeks out and reaches me in the depths of my soul. Tell me your arms are long enough to reach me across oceans. Tell me someday we will be together, somehow, some way. Tell me that this love we have can survive being together as well as we’ve survived being apart. Tell me we are more than the chasm of our divide.”
― Jacqueline Simon Gunn

“His tongue was one of his greatest qualities. He knew exactly how to use it with me. Encouraging, kind, and loving words flowed freely and frequently from his lips. Always inspiring me to upgrade my thinking. His tongue spoke life into me… Awakening gifts in me that I didn’t know existed. He used his tongue wisely. Truth be told, he’s part of the reason why I am me. Exquisite, Powerful, Fearless, and Unapologetic. I’ll be forever grateful for his genuine love.”
― Stephanie Lahart

“The distance between my lips and yours
cannot be deciphered from the square root
of the sum of the days we have spent wondering
what to do with three minutes and ten seconds.

The distance between my lips and yours
cannot be deduced by the difference in
the circumferences of our necks or in
how many minutes we can sit in the noon sun.

The distance between my lips and yours
can only be measured in poems.
Tell me, how many are there?
Were there? Will there be?

(But who knows what to call a poem
and what to call a conversation?
And who knows whether to call at all?)”
― Vironika Tugaleva

“We both knew
something wasn't quite right,
but we clung on,
used each other like cigarettes:
casual, habitual, slow death.

Why?”
― Vironika Wilde