Its been 243 hours and 27 minutes since we last talked.
(Not that I'm counting)
Its been 2 weeks since I felt your lips on mine.
(Not that I'm counting)
I haven't slept in over 8 days
(Not that I'm counting)
And my heart has shattered into 286 pieces.
(Not that I'm counting)
I tried counting the times you took my breath away.
(I lost count)
I even tried counting the nights I dreamt of you.
(The number was too high)
I was reduced to counting the times I loved you, and never said it.
*(I'm bad at math anyway)

I'd rather write poems than do math
I'd rather exercise my soul than my body
I'd rather learn about Plato than the Industrial Revolution
is it too much to ask for an education system that
actually lets me pursue
my own dreams?

I heard somewhere that
public schools are going to stop
teaching kids how to write
in cursive.

Guess that means we the dying breed of fancy, huh?

But seriously, America, let's get real.
Cursive is the unspoken *** of penmanship.
Its stops and starts are infrequent;
one neverending pleasure stroke of
ups and downs,
comely curves,
delectable edges,
all made in one fluid motion.
It's always somewhat satisfying to pen...
                   ...no matter how sloppy the technique.

See, children need to learn
how to make love on paper
before they grow up
and slip between the sheets.

It's important to teach them
that it's not a crime to take the time
to practice a little patience and appreciation.

After all, that's how love is maintained, right?

Forget e-signatures.
Forget convenience.
But don't forget the simple fact that
everyone needs a little John Hancock.

You asked me what I would do
if I woke up tomorrow but you didn't.


I can picture it all,
sitting in chemistry, barely acknowledging
the announcements on the intercom until
I hear your name.
I can tell by the tone of the assistant principal's voice,
he doesn't need to say it for me to start breaking down.
I look over at my classmates,
and they stare at me in disbelief;
they all know our history,
they know that we were lovers
until I told you
to leave me alone,
to let me get better.

I run.
I run through the door
and down the hall
and to the parking lot
where the doors to my brother's truck are locked
so I curl up in the back.
I didn't realize I was crying until now.
I didn't realize how much I missed you until now.
I curse at the misleadingly blue sky,
screaming my apologies,
hoping you hear me,
wishing you had known I wanted you back.
The guilt is crushing my chest
and I remember the feeling of your heartbeat
and I remember how warm your hands were
and I know that I will never feel that again
and I am
so,
so
sorry.


I tell you I would cry.

i like myself when i'm with you
i wish that was more often

m.g.

if you didn't like vegetables
i would eat all of them for you so that you were still allowed dessert
even though i don't particularly like vegetables either

m.g.

I decided to write a poem about you,
To express my feelings,
But as I put pen to paper,
I realised I didn't know what to write,
So I started reminiscing memories,
The way you smile when you look at me,
It's the kind of look you only see once in a lifetime,
And now I realise I don't want to share any of our other memories
Because a smile of yours is enough
To write a whole poem about

from the first day I met you
I thought you were beautiful.
you smiled at me
and I wondered how anything
could be so perfect.

a crush grew,
but it had me feeling blue.
you had a boyfriend
and there wasn't much I could do.

we talked during spring break,
the crush grew more.
never have I encountered
a person as interesting as you,
everything you want to do
I want to do too.

I guess you could say I'm
kind of in love with you.
but you're still in love
with him.  

-az