I have a love affair with the coast
the waves rolling in and out of the shore
holding hands side by side
feet digging in the sand
water knocking me down
I have a love affair with the airport
folks saying the hellos and goodbyes
loved ones being shipped out overseas
risk of being the last time they ever saw them
terminal to places unseen before
seemingly paradoxical
I have a love affair with the suburbs
little boxes all the same
parents and two kids, with a dog, all sitting down to dinner no later than 7 pm
stay at home mom, lawyer dad
straight a son, living on the wild side
straight b daughter with a straight edge life
all perfectly content in their own box
I have a love affair with the highway
concrete pavement with the ability to let you go anyway
windows down, wind flowing in your hair
let the time pass by as you pass by field after corn field

there's always the spiel about how love works
there's the spontaneity, the romance, the love-making, etc.
but what if we take that
and throw it out the window
that would be true spontaneity
no more would cycles of "romance" and "love" exist
anniversaries wouldn't be made such a big deal
more space would be left to care for the one you truly love
and for them to love you
because when you get down to the gist of it
all love is made out to be is this big charade
of who loves who more,
determined by pre-packaged gifts of items to be burned
when the **** hits the fan
when love should really be
going out and picking up your lover
early in the morning and having a picnic or
staying in bed for the day and calling sick from work
looking into each other's eyes and letting the world beyond
wash away along with the turmoil it holds or
driving out into the highway and let the car determine your destination
not the travel agent you paid to set up the reservations
true love begs for snap decisions
calls for them, weeps for them.

to think
it all started when we asked
"who is the real you?"
then you became quiet, reserved, pensive
and then replied with
"where to start?"
you told us it was all a facade
the smiles, all fake
the happiness, a show
we glanced at each other, and back at you
you told us how you used cut
never a blade, only a paper clip and safety pins
because "I still kinda care about my skin"
that's when I dropped everything
and hugged you tightly
I let go and let you continue
you told us how you'd been collecting pills for while
putting them in the bag of pills under your bed
you called it "a way out"
I looked at you
you were looking down, eyes watering up.
I tell you "it's okay" and walk up to you and offer my arms
you stand up and cry into my shoulder.
I tell you "it's okay. it's okay to be you."

whenever someone asks me what's wrong with me,
I usually am honest enough to say that I'm lonely.
then they spill out their usual spiel about
how they love me,
how they care about me,
how they're always there for me,
how I shouldn't feel lonely,
and I know all of this.
I've said this myself quite a number of times.
and I accept this and thank them genuinely.
because it's not what they deserve, I truly to thank them and am thankful to be surround by these sort of people.
but, the thing about this is, I never mean lonely the way they take it as.
i mean lonely in the "i want someone to love me in the way that only that one person and I can comprehend."
I see these relationships be formed, and the love that these two people share, and I look at that, and I think to myself
"I want that."
then I proceed to break down and cry for thirty seconds and I continue on my merry way, but that's irrelevant.
these people look so truly happy that they have found someone to love them for who they are, flaws and all, and I mean, I feel happy for them, but part of me gets truly jealous.
not for the thought that I'm attracted to one party or another,
but because I'm jealous they share that love.