Your hands are not sandpaper
You can't round my sharp edges,
Or scratch away the good parts of me.
Your fingers are not cages
Capable of capturing my hopes and dreams
And tucking them into a dark corner
To be forgotten about
Until a rainy day
When I go searching for them
In every cardboard box stacked in the attic.
Your eyes are not black holes
That will **** me in
And spit me back out
In outer space untethered to anything
So that I may float around
Devoid of gravity
And responsibility.
Your hair is not a net
Which will tangle my limbs
And refuse to release me
Until I submit to your commands.
You are not a strong current
Beating me endlessly
Before sweeping me out to sea
Because I am capable of standing
On my own two feet
And walking up the bank
To dry land
And safety.

Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
A-chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe,
My heart’s in the Highlands wherever I go.

Farewell to the mountains high covered with snow;
Farewell to the straths and green valleys below;
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods;
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.

My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
A-chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe,
My heart’s in the Highlands wherever I go.

Smiles turn into frowns
Bracelets turn into blades
Soda turns into *****
Love turns into hate
Laughter becomes tear drops
Boys become toys

Baseball is then all about the bases
Running past numerous faces

Friends become enemies
What was once a rose, now nothing but thorns
From energetic to tired and worn
Sponge Bob to *** tapes and ****
I love you
I want you gone
We go from 12 to 20
Now he's far more than a buddie
Hmmm, smells like teen spirit

You never felt mutual,
but I don't really care.
I don't know if that's true,
so my judgement is unfair...

When I wanted to see you,
you cut me off. Why?
Is it because you see
that I'm soft,
and gentle,
but more of a man,
than you've ever seen?
Or maybe you can't
comprehend what's
in between?

When I read my poem
about my mom, I looked around
at everybody in the classroom,
and your head was down.

That showed me
you're weak to emotion
and have been sheltered.
My goal was clear:
I knew I wanted
to help her.

Expose you to this world,
and show you love,
I suppose you're
like a dove
Peaceful, and pure
with style,
But innocent too so
this could take a while...

Me being impatient,
won't get to you quicker
But the longer it takes,
only makes me sicker.

Then came this
irking feeling
when I thought
of something:

What if me
meeting you
ended as "we"
being nothing.

I hope that's not true,
so I'll just end with this.
It's a pleasure to know you,
and also to write this.

Love, Jimmy

You are the sun that softly sets
as I the moon ascend the skies,
blowing a kiss on astral winds
to wipe the tears from solemn eyes.

At Dawn and dusk you pass me by
reaching in rays your gentle hands,
but ner' but once is your touch felt
and I again sink Neath the sands.

Oh sweet the hour of the eclipse
when you and I will will be made whole,
for you the heart that warms the blood
and I the grace that calms the soul.

So until then my love my all
I kiss your rise and feel your fall.