The word 'boyfriend' is so misleading.
"A boy who's a friend"--- that's a misreading
But if that's the meaning, then I must be keeping
A whole host of them (at least for the time-being).

All this time, I've been dating
Boys from Bio, English, Math, and Painting.
Boys I've met while debating
If chocolate or vanilla is better tasting.

Everyone has a boyfriend, even boys who are straight.
What do you call a captain who's got a first mate?
But all these boys have an expiration date.
All except one---
That's called your soulmate.

Cousin Death sends regards
Yet never liked you
You prepare too much
Reveal too much
You make twice the work
and spoil his great surprise

I remember the way you looked at me as if i were the only girl in your world
I should have known better
The way you spoke to me the words you said
I fell in love each and everyday
Our late night talks did they mean anything to you?

I Remember when you told me you loved me
I should have known better
The way 'i love you' fell from your lips
I cried for the first time i met you
Our kisses Did they mean anything to you?

I Remember when you said good bye
I should have known you'd say goodbye
The way you told me you found someone new
I felt free for the first time that day
Our memories they meant nothing did they?

.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
          genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...