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Love is of the senses
All six of them
Some think it's only recognised
When you feel it in your heart
This is mostly true
But the other senses contribute
You can't leave them out

My mother's cookies. 
I love them.
I truly do
But I love them mostly
With my taste buds

I wouldn't be who I am
Without colors. 
But I love them mostly
With my eyes

My friends. 
They mean more to me
Than anyone could understand
And this is where most people define love
The love I have for my friends
Is similar to the one I have for my family
And even when they're gone
They're still there
In your heart
Where you feel the love you have for them. 
And that's how you know love
When they're around
You enjoy their presence as much as anything else
You savour all the memories
Make them into jokes that only you understand

But even if you like having someone around
You have inside jokes
It's not love if you don't feel it. 
Feel. Understand. Love. 
With all your senses.
I do not know how you see
A peeing puppy you want me to be
But I would rather have big feet
And a long tail on my seat
A pouch to hold my things

You can always find them peeing
Ah wanna be a f*ing kangaroo
But because of stupid puppy lovers like you
My dreams'll never come true
Sydnay Adams Phillips wrote this poem as an inside joke of ours
I feel like I'm running
But I have nowhere to go
The last thing I wanted to do
Was leave
But my mind
Was made up
I had to get out

The phrase
it's not you, it's me
could work
If I felt like being nice
it's not me, it's you.
Would be a lot more accurate
Because I did nothing

You don't beat me
You don't bruise me
But you do torture me
When you don't speak
Your words made us last
But now that they're gone
There's no place for me

A simple I love you
With a serious tone
Yet sweet
Went a long way
But something
Made you stop
Please come back
I miss who you used to be
Poems are not always a rhyme
as a lot of people can tell
because trying to find a rhyme for every word
can put someone through hell

I prefer the kinds
that do not rhyme
they seem to be deeper
though they might not always
as nice
they tend to grab me
pull me in
make me thing
and examine

Poems don't have to be nice
Poems don't have to be sweet
Poems are your thoughts
Poems are you
Poems are expression
in one of many forms
Poems are whatever you make them
Why do I write these words
Type these words
Think these words?
Because I know not how else to say
The things I think
Somehow this language
These rhymes
These pauses
These emotions
Have the power
To make someone think
Into themselves
To find meaning
In everyday life
Whatever that meaning might be
We met in such
A different way
Not like many others
We were dares
to approach you
The taker would be paid three dollars
So the friend to my left
Gave in finally
She ran up and startled you
Then walked away swiftly
Which left only you
And me

You looked so confused
I though it only right
That I explain what
had occurred
So I took a seat beside you
And tried to keep my train
Of thought going
In one direction
But the tracks ahead became

As we continues
To talk and question
I felt more at ease
Like I've known you
I felt strangely pleased

My train escaped again
And again
When I looked at you
You sent my mind
Into the future
With visions of me
And you
You would think
I'd feel unloved
Because I'm always against the ground
But in fact
I prefer this view
It's quite nice if you know where to look

Most would see
The filth
The grime
The chaos
But I see
The textures
The colors
The secret passageways
The places leading nowhere
And everywhere

You never know
Where we'll go
Or what we'll see
But I manage to see things
Maybe it's because
My speed is faster
Than yours
Everything passes
In a flash

The world seems different
When you're right
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