12:00 to 12:01 may just be a fleeting moment,
but it is the longest moment of my life.
For 60 seconds, I want nothing more than
to be with you again.
At the same time, I know by 12:02,
I won't feel this way.
I can hear the clock tower ringing out:

1 - Seeing you again.
2 - How are you doing?
3 - Thinking about how good you look.
4 - "Why did I let you go?"
5 - Feeling your touch in my head.
6 - Are you happy?
7 - Imagining your hands on my waist.
8 - "Why did I let you go?"
9 - Wanting to be able to fall asleep with you again.
10 - Do you think about me?
11 - The pain of never speaking to you again.
12 - "Why did I let you go?"

I don't know why my heart tortures me so.
Why it craves for the one thing my mind rejects.
Is this what it feels like to fall "head over heels?"
Is love supposed to be thoughtless?

I fear I will never truly love
Never truly let someone in for fear they will hurt me.
I've grown up with people telling me
You need to break up before you end up broken
I say that I don't love you,
but perhaps it's the fear talking?
Or maybe it's just the 60 seconds?

It's about that time again
to lock up all the
Love
Anger
and Greif
and just wait for them to die.
But they never truly die,
do they?
They rally in the
locked box I call a heart
becoming stronger and stronger
until I am overcome with
Love
Anger
and Grief.
They never truly die.
No.
They never cease to come back
just as the winter comes
to destroy summer.
It's about that time again,
hopefully their rally is lifeless
so that I may see another day.

I've been tapping my pen on my spiral
trying to put words to emotion --
trying to explain a sensation so serene.
I wanted to tell you, in clever woven words
that when you touch my waist, my heart stops
that I'm not ticklish, I just want you to hold me
that your cold green eyes make me feel so warm.
What I'm trying to say -- what I want to tell you is
that I'll never be able to be sad with you around --
you wouldn't let me;
that I can't think straight with you near
and that's why I practice talking in my room.
I want to be able to tell you these things
in sophisticated metaphors and similes,
but the only thing that comes to mind
is you.

I close my eyes when the stars rise
but the sweet darkness does not cradle me.
No -- it is the past that thrashes me about.
The echoing of laughter and pointed fingers
and hiding in the corner as names pierce my heart.
Stupid --
a gun shot for not knowing the right answer.
Slow --
a backstab for not reading fast enough.
Ugly --
a grenade explosion for looking different.
You want to know why I am so chary?
Why I no longer speak out?
It is because she did not stop --
even as my defense crumbled before her.

When the stars rise and I sleep,
She is there-
laughing at my failures and shouting
**"I told y'all she Stupid."

I am the snowflake that hovers
caught between two winds.
Unsure where to go -
I go up.
Higher and higher
until I am above the clouds.
And it is only then
that I fall without wind's grace
and am buried in the cold grave below.

One road splits two trees
The leaves will forever reach -
Cursed with desire