I had a crab so snippy, it snipped at my ankles and kept me from doing anything but crab walk.
I walked like a crab for so long; I forgot anything other than crab talk.
I longed for a crustacean that held love I could foster.
When I left the mean crab, I fell in love with a lobster.
I spoke like a crab, and I felt like an imposter.
Perhaps deep down, I was always a wimp.
Maybe I should have found a sweet shrimp!
I love my lobster, but he’s always sad.
He’s scared he’ll become just like his crawdad.
My hands are intertwined with his claws.
In sickness and in health is the clause.
He’s sour like he was boiled and drizzled with lemon zest.
You can’t just stop being depressed.
My lobster wasn’t always sick.
His brother was turned into a fishstick.
I want him to be happy, am I being selfish?
I’m on a beach surrounded by shellfish.
There are many clams that are much moister.
I just couldn’t fall in love with another oyster!
If I can’t help him, I’m surely a monster.
There isn’t a scallop that could compare to my lobster.
These days he never leaves his rockbed.
Nasty thoughts fill his hard head.
Life keeps coming and going; it negs.
He can’t catch up with his ten little legs.
He never interacts with the other shellfish.
I want him to be happy, am I being selfish?
I think of how I ran away from the crab.
Did I leave him in his sickness and make out with a scab?
He was abandoned and his trust was left cinched.
Surely I shouldn’t endure being pinched.
Fish act like love is only advantageous.
Let’s not forget that sickness is contagious.
I guess you can say I’m somewhat seasick.
Lobster loving isn’t always a picnic.
My lobster feels like he can’t function as a shellfish.
I just want him to be happy, and I’m being selfish.

I want to shovel the sadness out of you with an ice cream scoop.
Let’s share it like a banana split.
Can my company be a cherry on top without the pit?
We’ll draw whipped cream smiles in a loop de loop.
Pour it all out like chocolate sauce.
I know that rainbow sprinkles won’t change your loss.
Maybe we can cover it in caramel.
Make this sundae the new normal.
We can melt together like gelatinous goop
I know you feel like ice cream soup.

Everywhere I go, I’m surrounded by blue–
A feeling I’ve never lost, but it’s often renewed.
The sky is blue with streaks of gray;
I sat still and held out until May.
Everything I touch is turning blue.
Everything I thought I knew was wrong;
I’ve been trying hard to make the days go along.
The car I drove past to get away was a baby blue,
And, I wondered how it would feel to lay beneath its spinning blue rimmed tires.
I’ve lit fires inside myself with a blue flame.
They caught wind, and became hard to tame.
Deep down, I’m blue and not the same.
Living blue is a dangerous game.
That house by the school is an electric blue–
The same shade as my innards and brain stew.
The screen of my phone has a blue light,
And I stare deeply at it every night.
I have mixed feelings about that blue sight.
I can’t distinguish wrong from right.

I guess you found me in my darkest blue.
I tried hard not to share that shade with you.
I really don’t know what to do,
But you told me your favorite color might be blue.
That long sleeved shirt you like to wear is a blue-green: aquamarine.
You’re too kind; you don’t know how to be mean.
I’m so rotten; I’m an ugly blue.
I hope you don’t get caught in it too.
I hate myself, but I like you.
It scares me that I might turn you blue.
But the blue I am when I’m with you is soft, pretty and pale.
Tunnel vision makes me frail.
I easily forget how this could fail and end up bad.
I’d hate me more if I’m what makes you sad.



You know I struggle on my own two feet,
And I can sometimes never eat;
It’s so dependent on my mood.
You asked me over to make me food.
You made me blueberry pancakes.
My heart quakes at those berries bleeding blue.
And I didn’t find that berry blue even slightly scary.
You gave me a flower of the same color;
It made me giddy, and I felt airy.
I’ve always wanted my blue to be duller,
But when you make me happy blue,
I really don’t mind the vibrant hue.

The last thing that I want to do is infect you
With my blue saturation for a selfish infatuation.
I’m terrified of my frustration over our peculiar situation.
I’m starting to see my blue on you.
Is this healthy?
I haven’t a clue.
You should know you really do look so cute when you wear blue.
I can’t stop positioning myself in your every move.
I’ve become too comfy with this blue groove.
Blue butterflies swarm my stomach.
I’m overwhelmed; I feel so sick
I’d hate to make your green eyes blue.
When I am with you I forget that ick.
If I ever turn you blue too,
It will be the worst thing I ever do.
Even though I’m stained blue,
I can’t help but fall for you.

To hip and hop and never stop,
The bouncy frog jumps to flop.
Grassland dead ends to cement junction.
On sunny days these roads don’t function.
The pavement gets so stupid hot;
The frog is sure to dry and rot.
Surely there is something to do!
Panic rises; he sees a shrew.
Is it friend, or is it foe?
Mr.Frog just wants to go!
The sunlit sidewalk makes searing pain.
Though, suddenly it starts to rain!
The shrew dislikes his wet feet.
Into the grasslands, he retreats.
From here the frog can hop along.
In the downpour, he belongs.
His froggy feet now feel relief.
Though this calm is quite brief.
Slithering by is a garter snake.
Mr.Frog has started to shake.
He fears he’ll be a froggy steak.
He is frozen, except for his quake.
Miss Snake is suffering a stomach ache.
This tasty frog she just can’t take.
Even though he’s nice and yummy–
He’ll cause a rupture in her tummy.
It makes her sad and pretty dull;
But, she is just much too full.
She squiggles quickly right on through.
Into the grassland, she went too.
Despite dysfunction, he defeats obstruction.
He ventures through cement junction.
He’s made it past the treacherous path.
The frog now leaps into a bath.
The rain creates warm mud puddles.
A sweet reward to end his troubles.

That day I woke up sour.
I had lost every ounce I ever had of power.
Helpless, I searched, wondered and I did scour.
All these thoughts, I shoved down to devour.
I grew more weary with every passing hour.
I thought of leaping from my tower.
And, into myself I did cower.
I sat there letting the water envelop me into a shower.
I decided to pluck the **** I thought was a flower.
That day I fell asleep sour.

I want to say it.
It’s raging in my throat like a wildfire.
I am terrified of the implications.
The words recede in a deep, dark pit.
I’m not quite sure yet what I desire.
This feels different than the previous situations.
it’s just a word.
I wish it would come out of hiding.
Maybe I’m being overly cautious.
The thought is feeling less and less absurd.
I want to coax it from where it’s residing.
When I try to let it out, I grow nauseous.
Maybe you should say it first?
I don’t know exactly how I’d react.
I hope I will just say it back.
I fear I may just be the worst.
My thoughts and heart are too abstract.
I think I should tell you this.
I really like your soft green eyes.
I like when we laugh and kiss.
I know it’s something I had to realize.
I hope that you do think it too.
The stewing word that’s left to brew.
Everything we do is new.
And that **** word will soon erupt.
Piercing my lips with a violent shove,
Against everything it will disrupt.
That **** word rhymes with dove.