My boyfriend does not say he loves me.
“I love you” is reserved for family members only,
and even then, sometimes, it’s a boldfaced lie.
My father “loved” my mother,
he cheated on her, drank away her money
and,
he abandoned me.
Another victim of his so called love.
I don’t even know what “love” means.
Somehow there is a supposed difference
between
Love
and
in love.

I don’t see it.
I love you, should mean
I love you.
Period.
But it doesn’t, does it?
We can’t even rightfully define the word love,
so how can it mean something?

No, my boyfriend doesn’t say
I love you
instead he swears he adores me.
Adores.
Me.
Now that word has meaning,
it isn’t common.
It’s unique to us.


It means he respects me,
he likes my quirky smile.
The way I walk, talk, and sing.
He likes the way I fight
the way I dance
the way I like to read in the dark.

My boyfriend also doesn’t call me
honey, sweetie pie, cupcake or worst of all,
love muffin.
I am not a pie, cupcake, muffin or honey…
although I do like all of those things….
a lot.

He calls me by my name,
and there’s something special about that too.
My name, the thing that is constant.
All of my accomplishments are wrapped up in that one word.
I own it.

Tying my shoes for the first time,
riding a bike,
driving,
graduating,
acing that test I studied all night for.
It’s all there
in my name.
Honey, sweetie pie, cupcake and worst of all love muffin
don’t hold any meaning.
It’s what a guy calls a cute girl.
great.
That’s so original.


My name carries all of my accomplishments,
and my failures.
The first time I fell off my bike,
and my best friend had to walk me home.
The first time I got into a car accident,
and the airbag bruised my face.
The time, my ex boyfriend said he loved me,
only to cheat on me and have his mother call.

“Hey sweetie, I’m sorry I just don’t think you guys are in love
and as you know he’s already moving on.”
I guess even though I “loved” him,
I lost him.
So no,
my boyfriend does not say he “loves” me.

And the next time a boy-
because he will be a boy
calls after you
“Hey sweetie pie”
“Hey Honey”
“Hey cupcake”
or worst of all
“Hey love muffin”

Tell him you don’t have time to talk,
you’re looking for the man,
who will adore you,
and learn your name
in all its glory.

A phrase said so much
It's almost lost its meaning
Started so important
So influential

It has lost its touch
Because it's said too much
Not often thought through
It's now a reflex

Take this seriously
I mean it truly
You are my everything
I Love You

Heaven can just as easily
Be a person as a place,
And loving someone does not
Stop you from hating yourself

--for me, heaven is freedom;
Heaven is touching your face,
But there is not a lot i can do
Except stare at our picture on the shelf

It was never hard to find the words, to me,
And loving you was the easiest
Thing i've ever done, until you made yourself free
From the pain and the hurt with some pills,
And if you were sent to hell, send me straight
          there,
But if you are in heaven....you always
Were an angel, but not to me

I fell in love with you all over again in a hospital waiting room

I fell in love with the deep purple under your eyes
like delicate bruising

I fell in love with the paleness of your lips
from lack of nutrients

I fell in love with the way you moved slowly
and achingly wrapped in a white blanket the color of your skin

I fell in love with the deep crimson of your blood
as it ran through your IV

I fell in love with you again as I laid with you in the hospital bed at 3 am

we’d been there for 10 hours
and you had a little too much morphine in your system
and a lack of sleep
when you pulled me close and said

“I could really see myself marrying you some day”

and that was right before you kissed me with your dye stained lips
so they could see your insides better on the x-ray

I fell in love with you again when you looked at me with your
big hazel eyes that turn black around the edges

You said god had sent me from heaven
An angel to watch over you

I'm not too sure about that but what I do know is:

I Do

He told me he liked my red hair
and the book in my hand

And I smiled at him when he started talking about the hunger games
after he saw my mockingjay necklace

And that was it
I fell for him

Later he told me he fell for me
the minute I started quoting John Green

And I realized that people don't always recommend books
Sometimes books recommend people

And I think that's kind of beautiful

Religion is, by far too many,
all too often treated to be
philosophical training wheels
nailed, *******, drilled, shot and beaten
into the already rickety bicycle
of One's own Life;

sure,
the training wheels
may help to keep One from falling,
that One can gayly forgo
the humility and responsibility
implicit with the burden
of One's own cognition;

yet, One cannot steer by leaning
if One relies on training wheels,
and, if One never takes them off,
One will ne'er have the true freedom
of being fully able to ride the bicycle
of One's own Life.

After a few flings
I'm starting to wonder
If I'm feeling nostalgic
'Cause their kisses
Taste like yours,
I see your smug face
Plastered across each
One of their haunting faces
And their voices are
Starting to sound like yours

And I can't get high
Enough to rid myself of the
Flavor of your kisses
Or your memory
That burns my eyelids
Evey time I close my eyes
But I've learned to
Keep them open

My body has become
A landmine
Waiting to explode
With one flimsy touch
I'll turn every substance
In the vicinity black

I'd apologise
But he doesn't love me
He's just in love with
The idea of being with me
Lust so rich,
Tracing the curves of my body
He leaves no inch
Unexplored leaving his
Fingerprints all over my skin
Watching him turn to ash
Wouldn't be such a bad idea
Then he'd know
Where I'm coming from

In the dark nights
Looking for you
In the orange bottles
In the red rivers
In the crumpled tissues
Never ending tears
I wasnt good enough
I was too much of a mess
To be trusted
To be fixed
To be loved