The veins on your arm branch like the great oak tree in my grandma's backyard and suddenly I'm entangled in my childhood memories.

I'm going to be honest, I'm really not a love poet
But every time I go to write down my aspirations or expectations of love
Because I truly never been in that position
I get up and distract myself with something else
My writer's block is completely torn down
My inspiration, vanished
And maybe I run away because it's something I'm afraid to experience
I distract myself from the feelings love brings just so I can ignore the pain for a bit longer

I grew up in my grandma's den with my eyes pressed upon the TV watching Disney movies about that one man who will surely wisk me away
He will wisk me away in a pretty dress that was created by some miracle
Created by the pain and agony I suffered alone
And surely I need a man in my life to ever love someone
And surely I need to become dependent to be loveable

Believe me, I'm really not a love poet
I grew up in my mom's living room with my eyes pressed upon the TV watching the local news about that one man who will surely physically and emotionally break me to the point where I'm going to court after I'm released from the hospital
And I will go to court able to walk, healed, some would say
But the outer portrait of my body is clean compared to the filthy, ***** mindstate I call, "penny"
... Worthless
And I will have to explain and try to convince the judge that laying a hand on me is horrible and that I didn't deserve it
And he will ask what I did, thinking to himself that there's a reason to ever lay a hand on a woman, or even anyone
And his hand will grab that gavel and smack the wooden block meaning the offender is let free
And while that gavel was smacking that wooden block I am tortured by the memories of my offender as he smacked my face, bruised my body, and murdered my self worth
I guess all this, was meant to be reality

I'm telling you, I'm not a love poet
The contrast between expectations and reality is movies and the news
the hot August day and cold December night
and the keys upon the piano
But you can't have seasons without the highs and the lows
And you can't create a melody without your fingers creating a united, elegant sound from pushing on those black and white bars
So surely I cannot have something true without having expectations for myself but with the fear of what reality holds

See I'm going to be honest, I'm really not a love poet
But if I woke up, whether it be early in the morning or late at night and decided I wanted to write a love poem
It would be about you
All of you
Because with the failures and successes I've seen that were about love
I learned something

Trust me when I say I'm not a love poet
I'm 17 years old
And I grew up in the same small city with the same small people
I hear snickers and sly comments about.. having to reach some sort of expectations to love
But we're all born with the capability to love
We love our mothers and our fathers
Our grandparents, our pets, our friends
Religious figures
So when you deny one's love because of who they are
Aren't you denying your love that has grown and flourished as time goes on
Aren't you denying the love you've given and received from your friends and family whether it's during a holiday or casual visit
Aren't you denying the love you've given and received from a man's best friend every time you return home
Aren't you denying the love you spoke upon on your knees before your head hits that pillow and you awaken, grateful for a new day

So I learned in this small city with my small friends
that love is always present since birth in different shapes
So I learned that love is strong since birth
So I learned despite the petty judgement
Love is there

I'm really not a love poet, I like the idea that I speak the truth
And the reality is that people will try to tear you down
They will try to corrupt the seasons and music you share with another
Because they are ignorant about love
And they preach about how you can only be this and that
Or do this and that
If you want to love

And your expectations are crumbled by the sheer reality of the world
You are afraid to hold hands with the person you adore
But the key is to persevere because surely your expectations will turn into reality
And you will no longer live in fear