 So this poem, I just really liked my first read it, and I think my reason why I really liked it was because I understood it. This is To Be in Love by Gwendolyn Brooks. To be in love is to touch with a lighter hand. In yourself, you stretch, you are well. You look at things through his eyes. A cardinal is red, a sky is blue. Suddenly you know he knows too. He's not there, but you know you are tasting together the winter or a light spring weather. His hand to take your hand is over much. Too much to bear. You cannot look into his eyes because your pulse must not say what must not be said. When he shuts a door, he's not there. Your arms are watered, and you are free with a gas sweep. You are the beautiful half of a golden hurt. You remember and covet his mouth to touch, to whisper. Oh, when to declare a certain death. Oh, when to apprise is to mesmerize. To see fall down the calm of gold into the calm of flesh.