I don't think I love you.
I shouldn't.
We are wrong in every way but
you are the one that took my innocence.
At first it's what I wanted.
But now, sitting here under these stars you once deflowered me under,
I realize that the greatest pain is knowing that
I wasn't the one you said goodbye to as you boarded
for England.
I lied though because the greatest pain speaks louder.
That I cannot be rid of the thoughts of you.
The sounds you made me spill
I never knew I could sing so beautifully,
and you were gorgeous when you looked at me.
Eyes so bright and kissing me as if I meant something to you.
I cannot say I love you but ****** it sure feels that way.
And these thoughts will not leave
you kissing my neck as I watch the stars dance
and we become them.
You don't think of me do you?
Not as I do, surly.
These thoughts, they'll haunt me.
You left without them.
You left me with them.

We are like
leftover love for dinner
have a bit,
winner, winner,
I have a Magic Kitchen
it's really *******'
& so bewitchin'
so much better the next time,
or prepared inside a rhyme,
add a bit of needed time,
reheated for
when it's breezy
or even freezy,
warm and cheesy
easy peasy
nice & squeezy,
accompanied by
a simple salad
a soft playing ballad

we have some
arugula dressed up
& maple roasted roots
emmmm,
so yummy yummy,
for my tummy,
making yummy memories
& love...

a private room for two,
right here a there is a booth,

in lovely pomegranate vintage dresses,
my lovely silken raven tresses,
lips taste of the sweetest wine,
my tongue & you are intertwined,

followed by
Ben & Jerry's ice cream
Sunday's,
& once again love
on Mondays,
every day with you a funday,
would you be

my love come one day?

I wonder if I stopped eating,
Would they notice?
I wonder if I stopped laughing,
Would they notice?
I wonder if I stopped loving,
Would they notice?
I wonder if I stopped talking,
Would they notice?
I wonder if I stopped trying,
Would they notice?
I wonder if I stopped breathing,
Would they notice?

*Because I wouldn't.

I know that you are a poet
I know that I don't matter to you
I know that I didn't really matter to you back then either
But back when I was actually on your mind
When I was under the impression that maybe you cared about me
I wonder if you ever wrote a poem for me?
I sure wrote many for you.
That's all I know.
I'd like to burn them with you now.
Along with all the memories and feelings.

I wonder if when Thomas Jefferson scrawled out the Declaration he could see the world that I have come to know.

I wonder if he would understand the nation that would blossom from under his inflammatory words.

Would he know that the world would never be so simple as black and white if only because a racial lawsuit might come from it?

Would he see the world burn up in a digital fire that no nostalgia would ever be able to quench?

Would he know the society that would simultaneously spew rantings of "You're special" and "You are never going to be right enough to live here"?

How about that war that taught the people that it's okay to hate those who fight so that you can love another day?

Or even the world that has severed so deeply within its own walls that you can only hold on to you hearts and hope that might not be severed too?

I wonder what this man could have been declaring so seriously that he would send men to war for it, just to have the papers he and his dear friends were writing on be the shield that politicians might use to prevent their fallout.

Freedom is not objective. And Subjectively speaking, this freedom we've been given comes with about ten thousand terms and conditions that none of us are going to read anyway because this is Amurica and we don't do that here.