admittedly, They are right when they say
that teenagers can't love;
they can only
lust
and i guess that's
what i've been doing and it'd
also explain why we don't
speak anymore

and when we do speak, you feel
as if you're speaking to a cold stop-sign
and i feel like
i'm munching down on
cardboard with a gun to my back

and all i would picture was
the texture of your lips and the
length of your pride, as if these
things
could ever be measured without some sort of
bias

In all honesty, i am still not completely convinced:
i can't say i loved you, so i'll find a way around it;

i got shivers when i whiff your scent around burning wood and shaving cream i still read your letters and they break something in me i did know i possessed your heartbeat was all i could hear when i turned off the lights i cry when i learn you still love me or lust after me but frankly it's sort of the same, isn't it?

i'm not allowed to say i loved you, but i promise, just for you, i'll find a way around it.

you were my only fan the only one who would cheer me on if i shaved my skull clean and wore my agony in public you were the only one who consistently thought of me when someone said the word beautiful i might have truly loved you but i'm too green for love and you were a dark blue and i cherished you for it

you were a dark blue and you never loved me, if you believe
what they say about teenage "love."
frankly i don't really care i actually wish
you'd hate me instead