You are like crack.
I'm addicted to being around you
The thought of your kiss
Your touch
Makes me smile and blush
And dream of wedded bliss in vain.
I am young
My love is futile.
Every ivory dream
Ends in unrequited love.
Every schoolyard crush
Ends in obsession.
When will I see you again?
A single hour is never enough.
A single day leaves me hungry.
No matter how long
It's never long enough.
I am addicted to you
And you don't even suspect it.

When I fall
I fall hard.
For the boys and girls
With full lips
Pale skin
Blue eyes.

When I fell for you
I got stuck
On your intellect
Your biting wit
Cynicism.

Your form
Is stuck in my head
Your rare smile
Is imprinted on the backs
Of my eyelids.
You are all I see
When I sleep.

And when you stand
Just slightly too close
I wonder.
I wonder
If you chose to stand next to me
If your fingers brushing across
The back of my hand
Was an accident.
If the times I caught you staring were coincidences.

The last time I fell
I fell hard.
For a boy with full lips
Pale skin
Blue eyes.
I made a mistake.
I gave up on you.

Have you given up on me?

Six
Seven
Eight
High schoolers.
A cloudy sky above them
Confined into a corner
Painted on pavement.
A playground ball
Bouncing between them
As the joke and laugh
And yearn
For the days
When we still had recess.

Sticky young hands
Clutching magnolias
Holding them out
Like an offering.
The unrequited love
Of years to come
Glistens in his eyes
For but a moment.

Sharp young minds
Clutching magnolias
Spinning webs of imagination
Like silk worms and spiders.
The webs, soon to be tainted
With lies and flies
And magnolias.

Bright pink magnolias
Epitome of womanhood
To brighten the rainy day
When he layed magnolias
On his mother's grave.
Only a child,
Weeping into his father's
Sullen form.
To young to understand
Death.

Sticky young hands
Clutching magnolias
Holding them out
Like a promise
To remember.

Blood
A faint trail
Across a dainty wrist
To express emotions that
Cannot be expresses in words.

Blood
A wild gush
Of a wound freshly
Cut. Carved into skin with
The intent to harm. Maim. ****

Blood
Staining the
Grey pavement
A dark maroon color
As it drains from life into

Death.

The steady pitter patter
Of rain on windows
Like deft fingers on a hollow drum.
A steady chill
Of grey stretched across the sky
Like the cow hide pulled taught
Over the Woden skeleton of a drum.
Watch through windows
The rain that falls
From the clouds to the ground
Smearing across windows
In a drizzle of grey
Painting abstract trails of water
On the landscape.
Water will not scorch me
So I run in the rain
And feel alive
Yet wet with raindrops
That stain my clothes
With big wet splotches.
I escape the monotony
And the steady drum beat
When I run in the rain.

A guy named Joseph
Once said that ****
Was his favorite word
Because it could be a noun
Or a verb
Or an expression of anger.
He proceeded to shave half of his head
Precisely down the middle.
Perhaps he is not a waterfall
Of good decision making.