How do I start this?
How do I express this to you?
Well, here's the thing.
I like you. It's simple at that.
Sometimes I'll joke around,
tie your shoelaces together, say mean things,
but deep down I really do love you.
And I want you to go and give your heart to her,
not to me.
Why?
Because she will be so much better for you.
She's sophisticated,
I am quite casual.
She's smart and cute,
I'm average and insane.
She's pretty and skinny,
I am fat and ugly.
She's the one that you stare at,
I'm just that thing, that accessory, an amusement for you to use.
Though some part of me wants her to break your heart and hand it back to you,
I don't think she will, not with the way she looks at you,
and the glimmer in you eyes as you look at her,
like shimmering like sun reflections on water.
Some other part urges me to lie to myself,
they won't be together long, they'll break up,
you can finally be noticed for once,
you'll be the heroine, be the shoulder he needs.
But that's the selfish part of me.
I realize, at least he'll be happy right?
It doesn't matter if I'm content
with sitting here in the corner,
alone and observant of the love that surrounds me,
while I stay here in my sullen pitiful sphere.
It doesn't matter.
It's the way your heart beats and the way your smile
inches across your face
instantly making it all the more beautiful,
that's what matters. You'll be happy,
with someone you deserve,
someone you need in your life,
a piece of perfection,
not a berserk,
ugly,
fangirly,
lovey-dovey
nerd/geek like me.
You two turtle doves are perfect for each other,
perfect looks,
perfect grades,
perfect everything.
A barbie doll to your ken.

So please,
walk to her now,
hand her your heart,
that full and crimson thing
that beats so fast next to her, and so slow next to me,
give that to her
while I'm not looking.
Give me some mercy.

Last of all,
good luck.
I hope she will care for your heart,
the way you might care for hers,
with adoration,
kisses,
caresses,
words whispered in whimsicality,
little pearls of treasures only found with two turtle doves.
Not that I would know. And I do hope I will know someday
what it feels like to be one of those turtle doves.

It's not hard to say it.
Just three syllables.
Easy enough right?

What's so difficult?
Young children say it all the time,
So why can't I?

The difficulty is in meaning it,
In being able to express in just three words,
Everything that matters to you.

The difficulty is in living it,
In following through on a promise made in a few seconds,
And showing them that you meant it.

The difficulty is in believing it,
When they try to do the same,
When they try to express all of this to you in the same way.

Three words is not enough,
But I'll say them anyway,
But not here, not now,
Because I can't get all of that into three words on paper.
Or into a message on a screen.
And though I'll probably say those three words to you, as soon as you see this.
I know it won't be enough.
And neither will this poem.
Or all my poems of your eyes and smile.
Because this means so much more than words.

She's the quiet one, who
never stands out the chick
who'll rather write a poem
than speak to a crowd.

The one nobody notices
when she walks down the
hall, the girl who's voice is
unknown but her mind's
full of thoughts.

She's the introvert, the girl
in disguise, the one who
builds up walls so her
life won't collapse.

The one whose tough
exterior in reality is
full of cracks.

She's a timid soul, a
daydreamer at heart,
creating the ideal future
while she tries to
forget her past.

The person who tells
her pains to a stranger
who asks, but can't
have a conversation
with those that are
by her side.

She's your classmate,
she's your sister and
friend, she's your
cousin and niece, she's
your aunt, she's your tale.

she's the girl that stares
back when you glance
at the lake, the one
no one knows, she is I,
she is her.

i told you to come here,
there's something important
i need to tell you.

You ignored me.

i told You i hate You,
that You are an *******
and that im breaking up with You.

You ignored me.

i told You
i loved You,
and wanted your love forever.

You ignored me.

i told You i needed You,
i wanted You,
and i stripped to my bare undergarments.
insecure, embarrassed, afraid, innocent
all foreign words to You.

You looked at me, caressed my cheek,
kissed me, molested me.

Don't mess with hard-core otakus.

Okay, *******!
I'm sorry I'm too shy to do anything in real life,
too insecure to ask my love out,
to be in love with something so physical
Sorry I am not an arrogant self-centered ******* like you are,
that I am not confident and cocky.
Maybe I don't want people to look at me,
and judge, that I only want people to see my soul,
my personality.
But is that such a crime?
Hey, and what if everyone here is a stereotype, overplayed, overdone and fake? Looking for someone and something real is hard...
******* for calling me sweetheart, beautiful, then turning around and laughing with a friend about how I'm such a mess, talking to people in the internet on some random poetry website and for falling in love with someone's personality and soul, not just their looks, not like you who only wants a girl for her big *** and big *****, not to mention skinny *** waist and curves.
Well I'm ******* sorry (nope not really) that I like internet people,
with no judgements
like the ones you have written across your lips and constellated in your eyes.

Just do me a favor? I hope one day you will fall for a girl
with just a bit of soul, someone not a ***** for once,
and I hope she breaks your heart,
and that you will see what it's like to be with someone with a bit of spine and brain.
[walks away from him with one finger in the air]