How can I say I like you again?
It has been two and a half years since
I liked you, back mid 2012.
Many knew I used to like you
but frankly speaking, I still do.
I really do, but it seems that
I got no hope for you to like me back.
Furthermore, you might say that
I liked many girls as you said once
but I'm willing them unlike them away
if I truly will and especially God wills.
You're the one whose character
is corny but very admirable
sweet as a fruit beer, if you're a beer.
I admire your overall beauty -
both internally and externally -
but I would ask this once more:
how can I say I like you again?

(Warning: This poem has been de-activated on another site. You must be 18 yrs. old to read this; although we were only 15 then)

Way back then,
When we were
Post-pubescent
Boys,
We sat in a circle,
Not a **** ring,
And rhymed our things
Like this:

You make my **** rock;      
You make my thing sing;      
You make my **** stink;      
You make my log throb;        
You make my stick thick;      
You make my chub rub;
You make my ******* long;  
You make my stump jump;  
You make my pole roll;        
You make my wiener leaner;
You make my bone moan;    
You make my man stand;      
You make my limp primp;    
You make my rod applaud;
You make my spear smear;    
You make my peter sweeter;  
You make my one eye cry.

And all in unison:

You make my *******.*

We'd continue with our lines,
Til the case was as empty
As our rhymes.
Them there days of simple joys,
Post pubescent
Boys with  toys.

Oh!  There it is!
The blood of my Mothers’
Sins
Blossoming on
My white sheets
Like a bouquet of English roses.
A shame -
Laundry day had
Been yesterday.  

My thighs have been painted
Rouge -
They blush
Like my cheeks
When my gaze
Lingers on my body
Too long in the mirror
As I put on my Sunday dress.

The needles in my
Lower back fill my
****** with blood -
I am a woman now -
And as such I must
Wake before the sun
And wash my sheets
And my body
Before anyone has a chance
To smell the iron and the shame
Between my legs.  

I have never been so
Acutely aware of my body:
My sore ******* feel like
Overripe tomatoes ready to burst,
My stomach bloated and taking up
Space I’m told is not ladylike -
My head throbs, my limbs ache, and
I continue to shed my insides.
How is it I never noticed
The cry of my body before?

A week of blood
Before I have served my sentence
For a woman
Who dared to disobey -
I clean the stains
And wash myself
Away.

Pimple popping
Lathered deodorant
Awkward tampons
Hair in unwanted places
Drunken nights
Failed hangover cures
Flunked classes
Broken hearts
First kisses and first times
Rebounds
Hookups
Hickeys
Rushes of frustration
These are all
unglamorous occasions
Of a not so florescent
Adolescence