He says crazy
        I say creative
He says ******
        I say ballsy
He says weird
        I say wonderful
I love you
           You love him

                                                  He loves her

Three
In the morning,
And I can’t help but
Notice that I’m a little too drunk.
Oh well,
I’m almost back at the dorm now.

I didn’t need to walk home,
But there is something
Comforting about the silence
Shattered only by a passing police car
Or taxi.

And my rhythmic breathing,
Steam from my mouth.
Snot about to drip from my nose.

And the weird shadows
That the streetlights give
To the grass,
And the trees.

It all might be forgotten
In the morning,
But for that walk home
It’s all I have.
And I love it.

Death doesn’t scare me.
Neither does the process
of dying.

What terrifies me,
more than anything else,
is the thought
Of not being alive.