You 
You're like a storm
Bringing rain and destruction
Then leaving after you're done
Looking back at all the chaos you've caused
You 
You tricked me into thinking you cared
Until you found out how I felt
And you left
Like it was no big deal
You
You ignored me
Ruined me
You stopped talking to me and started talking about me
You
I loved you 
Now I  hate you
I was so stupid to think that you would ever be mine
I felt so dumb that i couldn't get you out of my mind
You
 You fooled me
Abandoned me
I still loved you
I missed you,even though you were never mine
You
You hurt me, left scars
But time heals all wounds
I've gotten over you,but not the things you've done
And I don't think I ever will

Forgive me for forgetting
The purpose of this poetry

I got lost in the prose
And diluted the feeling
Distracted enough
To not kiss you completely

I feel like a man who has eaten
Food with onions in it
Self-conscious syntax between my teeth

My tongue attempting to describe
All the things your lips are like

I forget that I am supposed to feel first
Then write

We're very much alike.

Poetry is our inspiration,
we were born writers.
People call us BBQ sauce snobs
wine connoisseurs
and brothers.

But he likes to dance
at night--
in the headlights
when the air pierces the skin.
His deep dark pockets
are an oblivion of cigarettes
and full minis of Jack.
Remind's me of Harpo.

He walks like a snake slithers--
body swaying
and a gleaming mischievous twinkle
in his eye.

We both enjoy crisp, autumn days,
but he prefers them cloudy--
dark.
He says it brings out the color
in the reds and orange leaves jumping off the trees to twist in the breeze.
Listening to stand-up is our solace,
though he says Hicks is god.
I say Carlin

His shadow reminds me of a demon--
the long lost son of Medusa.  

He's not afraid to say what he thinks,
cause he knows he's right.
Sometimes I believe him--
he speaks with such nonchalant confidence.
There's always a needle on his words
swiftly flitting and flickering
like a flame he's flicking off his tongue.
And if his words hurt breaking the skin?
"Don't be such a *****" he'll snarl
before turning the charm back on
with a giggle and ironic wink.

He likes to collect
the faults in others
cause his thinks his **** don't stink.
He keeps reminding me of mine.
He enjoys needling
people.

We've known each other
for a long while.
Seems like longer....
but that's cause my roommate is me.

“The nerdish image”**

They say I am a nerd, they say I am a geek,
I shouldn’t care, I shouldn’t bother but I am done being meek…
I am sure that the nerds do not really bunk,
And in case they do, they most definitely don’t flunk.

I am wearing  large specs,I am holding a fat book,
But it still doesn’t call for you to throw that look,
Don’t be judgmental, please don’t assume,
To me it’s so unfair, every time you presume.

I might look bookish, I can’t cat-walk,
I am reserved, I am shy, I do not really talk,
I am no fashionista, but my deepest concerns  aren’t books,
brands, clothes, shoes, yes, I care about my looks,

okay,Call me a nerd, call me a geek,
I do not really care, won’t complain, won’t speak,
But behind my back, everything that you talk,
It still hurts sometimes, coz it sounds like a mock,
Good marks, good grades, oh! I want them always,
But they aren’t always mine, if you haven’t noticed, just in case,
“Calling me a nerd isn’t the real concern,
It’s the fact that I am not, and I wish I had been one.”