Write a man a poem he will feel appreciated and flattered
Write a boy a poem and he will shut you down and leave you tattered
Tell a man you love him, he'll say it back with truth
Tell a boy you love him, he'll use it as a gateway to rip off your clothes
Show a man affection, He'll respect you forever
Show a boy affection and to him it will never matter
Spend your money on a man, oh wait a man doesn't want you to do that
However a boy will strip you of everything you've ever had
The difference between a man and a boy is a great one indeed
A man will cherish you forever
While a boy will take what he wants and then leave

I see too many sad poems.
I don't even want to read them because I don't want to be sad.
I like happy poems
Even sappy poems.
I like poems that make me smile and feel alive
I like warm cozy poems
Even poems about the weather and clothes and food and candy
I think we should all try to write happy poems once in a while.
You should want people to read your poem and smile.
Not to say a sad poem can't be very good,
But the world is far too beautiful
Maybe this is easy for me to say because I'm really happy.

But inside...I know
That perhaps of a spark of it is still there

And that very spark,
It will grow and grow, faster and faster...
Just like the way,
A perfectly round cherry does

And from that little orb of light,
It will bloom,
Burst.

Give way the gooey goodness inside.
Empty it all until it is free.

Explode.
Crackle.
As if celebrating its final achievement,
Showering sparks absorbed by the air.

As they heavily rain down,
Like a group of shooting stars.

What was once a spark...
Now a firework.

I'll never let you read this, I hope you know. It wasn't supposed to happen like this.  I wasn't supposed to fall. I was going to keep us in the friend zone, but on this I failed. I did want one night with you, heck maybe even two. I got those nights and then some. No, it wasn't supposed to happen.  Feelings were not meant to intrude. The line was drawn from the begining, but over it I stepped.  Before I stepped I  believe that you started to erase it. The line is no longer there. In its place confusion, butterflies. So what do I do now? How do I proceed? I tried hard to stay in my friend spot not wear my heart upon my sleeve. It now bleeds turning my hands red. It beats in rythm with yours now. It calls to my soul saying "I'm ready".

"I can't do this anymore."
She said as she dropped
the razor from her hand.
The cuts on her hand were
as deep as her love for him was.
She sat there weeping all night
thinking of how she could reverse
the time and heal her wounds.
The night was as troglodytic
as her heart.
She clenched her fist tight as she
heard it whisper in her ears.
A very familiar voice but not
palatable to hear.
A voice that sounds like an elegy.
Her world spun at the speed of light
when it said it's stuck to her.
Her hands started trembling as
it was latched onto her.
Nails so long and eyes so red
she couldn't stop the horrendous
voices in her head.
As soon as the firebolt struck
the ground the wolves started
bawling, the fiendish and
diabolical sky started mourning.
All she wanted at that
time was to be free of that
unendurable and inadmissible
pain but the depression which
came in the form of Mephistopheles
did not let her empty her vessel.
As the long abominable and
atrocious night passed she was
found lying on the floor breathing
but not alive.
She was completely shattered and
broken into tiny bits but
with every tiny bit she still
loved him.
That was the night she realized
what it was like to
live with depression.

There is always a light at the end of your darkness.
There is always a light at the end of your turmoil.
There is always a light at the end of your troubles.
There is always a light at the end of your pain.

Just don’t close your eyes.