i want to write poetry
so that they will move through
generation
after generation
words of my knowledge
bleed through the blood
of the words on a page
through the lips of the people.
but so far my poems revolve around
my adoration of you.

and i guess
i'm never
going to be liked,
because being a muffin
isn't attractive.
and like others
i'd rather be a cupcake.

if the way
weekends **** me
are two days
in which i worry.
i can't imagine summer.
and even now
i don't see you at all really
not until afters school.
and even then,
time is limited.
i no longer get to
bring you an apple
at lunch,
place it on the table beside you
my arm brushing past yours
or perhaps my hand
squeezing your shoulder.
i guess in my dreams
i'll still be bringing you apples
in lunch period four.

i see the way he looks at you
and it hurts me, each time.
but i say nothing,
but watch him.
i watch him change
around you and i
cannot provoke that
change apparently.
so i remain
at some days
he's my friend
and some days
he'll knock me
down a peg.

i really don't want to
but here i go again with reading
love stories, which will make me
think of possibilities
and hope
and you.

how silly of me
to think that i know how to do math.
when my current grade
is a C-.
becasue apparently
we have an equation error.
and i've tried simple math
to put one and one together
to make two
1 +1 = 2
to make us.
but you seem to be
some problem
that no one can solve.
not even the smartest.
and i've tried.
but a C-
only reflects
how i did on the test
not how hard i tried.
and it seems to me
i shouldn't try anymore.

i stood outside today,
to get away from you.
winter isn't over.
it continues to snow.
you came to me,
not out of choice,
but to return something.
and i looked into the sky
i refused to acknowledge you
with my eyes.
i didn't want
to change my mind.

i wanted
to become one
with the sky,
away from you.
so you'd see the snow
in resemblance
to how my heart is reacting
to your bipolar climates
of personality.
so you woudln't
see the hollowing look
within my eyes.
i'm tired of this weather.

i told you
something that hadn't been sitting right.
i wanted to throw the words
into your ears.
i wanted to scream them.
so you weren't mistaken.

i told you
words that are meant for you
i don't know if they will change you
i don't expect them to at all.

but i told you
that i was done trying to be your friend,
in a voice hardly above a whisper
as if my own body
was shutting itself down
muting the words into silence.
i let them be spoken.

i told you
i meant it.

you told me
you didn't hear me.
but your eyes across the room
told me otherwise.