These poems I write, they’re my escape,
though from what I do not know.
My troubles seem to evaporate
the moment I let them show.

I write about love, which is ironic
because I’ve never had a lover.
I used to think maybe I was sick;
for I’ve never longed for one either.

I write about death when I’m feeling down
so I can cry to something new,
but thinking to when I lost real tears,
maybe they weren’t mine to lose.

Even now as I write this down
- my headphones on but paused -
I wonder where my motives are bound,
for I always feel like a fraud.

I want to be kissed the same way I once craved adventure;
A little girl, dreaming of climbing mountains, of quests just like the ones in her books.

The same girl dreams now of the gentleness of soft hands cradeling my face, of stars in my eyes and giggles in the night.

I want to be kissed the same way I once craved adventure;
In theory.

I want not the cuts and bruises from the stones, the unbearable sun beating down at me as I climb higher and higher.

I want not the relationship, strange lips meeting mine.
I don't want to see a face all too close, to know its details or hear its name.

I don't want to be kissed.
I want the fantasy of romance, the love of the story, the soft gestures of imagination.

If I am but a character of my own creation,
then I don't want the story to come true.

I'm not gonna lie
I think you're beautiful
Your aesthetic
Quite fine

I feel intrigued when
I stare into your eyes
My heart beats
A little faster each time

But curiously
I don't love you
Or think I do
Or even think I like you

You're just gorgeous
And I want to stare
And smile
But that's it

It is everywhere
On the radio
In my friends' eyes
Right in front of me

It is part of life
The happy ending to every book
Part of life’s plan
What makes us human

It is a milestone
The progression of dating
Then marriage
And children

It is society’s solution
The one for sadness
For mental illness
To keep going when the world falls apart

It is why I am different
Unable to relate to the subplots in movies
To my friends' love lives
And will not ever have the option to

It is what the world will not understand
Why it calls me heartless
Unloving
And vile

It is inescapable
In the name of who I am
The name of my community
Aromantic

It is the reason I feel alienated
Because love is love
But I cannot love
At least not in the way the world wants me too