Kiss me, rekiss me, & kiss me again: Give me one of your most delicious kisses, A kiss in excess of my fondest wishes: I’ll repay you four, more scalding than you spend. You complain? Well, let me ease your pain By giving you ten more honeyed kisses. sonnet 18 by Louise Labé Louise Labé, a poet of the French Renaissance, gained notoriety not until the nineteenth century after a lucky discovery made by some somebody-or-other. love poems. poems about love? commonly difficult to comprehend, being lashed with vocabulary so seemingly alien. i favor this poem so much because of its simplicity. i enjoy it because it is easy to read. i enjoy it because i have felt this feeling. and i enjoy it because it is a feeling reminiscent of a childlike request for so much love it overwhelms, yet is perfectly sufficient.
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afternoon, one spring, in a city with a river running through it. i left the coffee shop on broadway street that sat in the basement of the thai restaurant serving steaming, spicy plates of curry. the aromas of cardamom and ginger always fell through the floor vents and swirled into the coffee shop, making it feel like someone's home. the man behind the counter that also owned the place, never forgot my face and always forgot my name. his speech was specked with a middle eastern accent and if ever i passed by, making eye contact with him when he was sitting on the one lone chair outside the cafe meant an invitation inside and down the steps for a mug of coffee. on this day, the rain kept me inside the cafe. i sat on a couch facing the large front window, watching the rain fall and ignoring completely that the time for my afternoon class had come and gone. i placed my inquisitions, instead, on the rolling steam that raised from my coffee cup. once the rain passed...