When I say
I love you
Don't picture my cheeks
Bright red
Or my palms sweaty

When I say I love you
Something breaks inside of me
The walls I worked so hard
To construct all around my heart
They are now teared apart

When I say I love you
I do not say it
To the boy standing in front of me
I profess it to the person you are
Late at night
When your thoughts are blurry
And your eyes are dark.

"I'll wait for you,"
when we were kids,
you had said.

But Jack's still comatose
and Jill is dead.

You never came.

You’ve left your fingerprints upon my heart:
Indelible,
and irrevocable.
And not only the prints
but the fingers too;
how they twist and toy with it.
And not just the fingers
but the hands as well,
and they grip and yank and give me hell.
And more than hands,
the arms that hug and hold it tight
unwilling to let it go, but always reaching for something more.

We all at one time believed cupid was the reason we loved.
Shooting us with an arrow and releasing doves.
Question is was he aiming right?
How does he decide who fits perfectly intertwined?
Cupid is a menace in disguise
A trickster playing the role of an innocent child.
He is out for tears and confusion.
Wanting you to believe you can love someone so wrong for you.
There he goes darting past the city using his supply of twisted arrows.
Only to lead you to believe a love that is not true.
Love does not come from a baby menace on the run from the law.
Love is navigated by the map of your heart.
He tries to depict your code to look into the navigation.
But that is a prize this run away can't find.
He hides now.
A fugitive on the loose.
He hides in the bad relationships you find yourself in.
He hides in the ugly places you have made mistakes due to false love.
He sits in the corner of your room tapping his maniacal fingers together as you cry over a boy lost that was never meant to be.
He sees your lover and distracts him from saving you.
Love doesn't hurt.
There is a force tricking you into the pain.
Watch for cupids works.
You find him in the hard times you have in a relationship or in the break ups you have.
But once you find your love don't worry cupid cannot tamper with the heart he may only tamper with the mind.

I glare at it
During last period,
Jumping too high
But not high enough
To reach the swinging rope.

I'm in history,
And some glazed-over teacher
Is pointing at the
Chalkboard which has
Tiny scratches that look like words
Scribbled all over.

But I don't look at my notes,
Because my neck is craning
Too far back
To look at the rope
That is
My two and a half hours of freedom.

A single note is released into the halls
And the students chace it
And I leap into the air
Because the rope
Is reachable
And I grab it.

I begin to climb.

I sit by you on the
Dirt-dusted tile floor
Outside the gym
And we work on algebra
Or english if it's a good day.

And don't get me wrong,
I hate the familiar stench of homework
As much as
The next
Hunchbacked highschooler.
The rope stings my hands
While I climb.
You numb the burn.

But I have practice
And the rope is easy to climb
And I reach the top
In two and a half hours
And you get into
The yellow sardine can
That goes to your neighborhood.

And all of my muscles ache when you go.

Not very anxious
to bloom,
my plum tree.

Sometimes ***** tastes like you.
Like having *** on the bathroom counter.
Like pizza movie nights.
Like getting high on the roof while reading poetry.
Like eating you out in the back of that church.
Like crashing that car in the field behind your house.
Like playing the guitar on your back porch.
Like the sound your horrid contagious laughter.
Like drawing hearts on each other's backs with crayola markers.
Like your tongue after the first cigarette.
Like you and me.
Like you.
Like us.
Like you.