I gave the boy with the pretty frame-worthy eyes a pen the other day in class,

I switched the top of the black one I gave him to the blue that I used, and vice verse-a giving him a blue-black pen and me a black-blue one.

To him, in that moment,
I was just goofing off in class instead of listening to the teacher yap,

But to me, the pens and the colors meant something,
The day I made that blue-black pen, I was trying to make me and him,
The blue me, the black him, and together, us.
It was my heart,
And me giving him the blue-black pen was in a way, me giving him my love.

Maybe he missed the message in between the lines, or maybe he chose to by pass it,
Or maybe,
What I thought we had going on, was a delusion,
Maybe it was only one sided, and the connection was all in my head,

Perhaps I should’ve left the pens alone,
leaving my feelings unknown, and the lack of reciprocation would’ve hurt a little less,
But now my heart aches,
Especially whenever I see that cursed blue-black pen.

Maybe it a curse,
That unrequited is the only one to know me for who I am,
Maybe it’s a curse, that love and I aren’t meant to be friends
All the
Pretty guys with nice eyes always seem to overlook mine,
And I,
I always seem to stand to the side as,

My ghost on campus leaves with a goodbye that contrasts the simple hi

And the one with frame worth eyes, just lies

And what could’ve been no longer crosses my mind,

But the one from that Saturday night lingers around sometimes, but

Maybe it’s a curse or it’s a blessing in disguise,
That unrequited is a shield that guards me from the, pains and heart aches that the guys of this era creates

It has to be some sort of sick spell cast upon me like Maleficent did Sleeping Beauty,

But reject it as I may,
Maybe this curse is my saving grace
For As much heartache unrequited creates,
It saves me from the strongest hex called heartbreak.

Can we go back to a time when music was good?
When songs were made for quality over quantity,
And words were so meticulously chosen to make  a bar so elegant,
and eloquent,
And mixed so perfectly with the music that it felt nice on the ear drums

Can we go back to when words held weight?
To when diss tracks were 5 minutes and 13 seconds long?
That made the two coasts split even more than just distance?

Take me back to when, rnb actually put people in their feelings,
When you can communicate through music,
And stories were told through rhythm and lyrics.

When every problem became a waterfall that shouldn’t be chased, and a “scrub” was added to the slang dictionary.

When album of the year was actually worked for, and the winning album was not just for songs sung over,
When music videos were good, and not filled with air bending, and **** shaking,
Less sampling,
And real story telling,

Can we steer away from killing bill, and focus on being at your best?
Or being serenaded in candy rain instead of hearing what youngboy says?
Can we go back to a time when music was good?
Because this, this is no where close where it once stood

Nine lines aren't enough for me to confess the love I have for you.
It cannot begin to explain your ineffable beauty,
Or the Darcey rose color you bring to my cheeks.
It can't describe the bright light in your eyes and the sparkles it brings to mine,
Nor the way you make my heart race.

But for now, love,
Let nine lines be enough to give an idea of the affection I hold for you in my heart.

Be the raindrops that fall from the sky,
That brings peace and tranquility to my mind,
Be the clouds from up above that shade me from the harsh sun,
Associate yourself with the beautiful dew that brings vibrant green to the plants,
Be the calm after the storm that restores peace in my heart and the land,

Smile like the rainbow when the clouds part,
Let in soft rays from the sun as the grey fades,
And most importantly,
Remind me of the rain.

I don’t believe in right person wrong time,
But I think with enough time we would’ve been just right.

I think, if there was more time to say more than simple “Hi’s,”
Goodbye would’ve been less painful.
And moving forward would’ve been easier than its current struggle.

There wouldn’t have been a “what could have been?”
And you wouldn’t be the ghost of senior past that haunts me like a bittersweet memory.
You would be you,
I would be me,
And we, would’ve possibly been a oui.

Delusional as it is to think that greetings would turn into romance,
I believe that had time been on my side, we would be just right,
Like puzzle pieces,
We’d be, Peter and Mj,
Tiana and Naveen
Me and you.

You make me believe in right person wrong time,
That if stars and planets aligned just right,
We could’ve been a story for the books,
That maybe, in some novel, our author does not yet want to introduce the story of us, and in due time, our prologue will end and our first chapter will begin.

That maybe, we need more character development before the age of us is to come,
That we are right.
In every timeline we are right.
It is written in the stars and set in stone that we are for each other,
But the time must be just as right as we are.

I don’t believe in right person wrong time,
But for us, I think that in time, we will be just right.

The beauty and the struggle in loving,
It’s really something,
I love, loving.

The affection, the passion, the slight imperfections of the affections I hold dear in my heart,
It’s something authentic,
There was a time when Jada and Will was the aesthetic….
But now I want nothing that resembles them,
I want my own fairy tale a little like the ones on the movie screens, and the book shelves,
One that shares the true beauty of love,
And the beauty of struggle,
The combination of both of them, that makes relationships real,

Now a days I don’t see the balance,
There’s more love, less struggle, or the complete opposite,
All over media, there’s either this perfect picture couple,
Or a toxic situationship
There’s nothing passionate, affectionate, or authentic about it,
This new age is all about “no labels” and throwing in the towel over the little stuff,
Letting the struggle consume the love, over the little things, with arguing, and blocking, and posting subs,
And It ***** because,
there’s truly a beauty in the struggle of loving,
It’s really something,
I love loving.

If now is not the time,
When will the time be right?
Why don’t we just make the time right?

We’re here, right now,
Young, dumb and in love,
So timing should not be the gap between the two of us,
Let’s live in the moment,
Right here,
Right now, and cast aside, all doubts,

For if the time is never right,
Let’s take this time for you and I.

I think,
unrequited is addicted to me.
I don’t know but it just happens to find me no matter where I hide,
It’s almost like it’s waiting for my smile to be a little to wide,
and my cheeks to turn a little too red to creep back into my life and turn things on its head,

I think its favorite pass time is to make my heart ache because just when I swear that I’m done, someone comes and so does unrequited right behind it,
I hate it,

It’s almost like it needs me to stay with it because it chases everything else away, it’s addicted,

But somewhere deep down, I think I need unrequited just as much as it needs me
I kind of hope it doesn’t leave me,
Not yet at least,
I’ve grown well acquainted with unrequited, and it’s strange because, even though I don’t want it, reject it, and run from it,
it’s always there waiting for me after my heart is done being too happy,

It’s almost like it’s home for me, no matter where I go it waits patiently for me.
I don’t think I’ll know what to do when it really leaves,
So now I wonder,
Am I just as addicted to unrequited as unrequited is addicted to me?

What could have been?
It’s something that crosses my mind every once in a while,
And no matter how hard I try not to,
I always end up thinking about it.

Would it have worked if I walked up to him?
If I had complimented his pretty smile and beautiful poetry?
If I had stared a little longer than just a glance, would he have noticed me?
Would me just being blunt, and confessing to him get me the reciprocation I wanted?
Would that have gained me the pretty boy with personality, that now haunts me like a ghost in campus hallways?

What could have been?

If I followed through with my plans to get him,
Would I currently be calling him?
Would we be exchanging good morning texts and poems if I had listened and just talked to him?

What could’ve been?

If I had wished him more than good luck,
would I be wishing him a safe return when he leaves?
Would I be sharing with him my deepest of thoughts, and all the love I put into my poetry?
If I was honest would our story be one for the books?
If I played my cards right, would he have been mine?

What could have been?
It’s something I can’t help but think about.
The thought lingers around my mind the same way he lingers around my heart
What could have been?