Strike 1: he has a girlfriend
Strike 2: who I know
Strike 3: want to play a different game?

I want you.
That's what they said
But I know enough to know the you
Stands for
underneath my clothes

and not *ultimately
me at all.

Texting until 3 am

all of them

again

I must be lonely
or bored

or

interested or

interesting?

Love?
I call it,
Forbidden.

An object's purpose is defined by where you place it
Place water on plants, and the plants grow
Place water in your lungs, and you drown
Which is why I can't help but fear where you intend
On placing me

And humanity was posed here like a challenge.
Saying to the world:
"Take back from me."

we discovered each other's depth
through mutual love of poetry

Now what of you
from a place in my memory
from a memory in the past
from the past I barely remember
anymore

Is there
any more you will be to me
than a phone number I cannot call
than a photograph in my computer screen
than a newspaper article I've read and reread again and
again

Are you more of a loss or
a gain- like the profit from falling for love
and the debt from falling apart
in love
and all its constituents from
butterflies to monsters
to daydreams to tear drops to
fireworks

Because this want works like
fire works
to burn then burn out
but never like the fire in your eyes
of passion and compassion
that builds fire then stays
burning up
unless in exchange of more
match sticks you have for
today

Will you forever be a thought from night
to day
from all the merriment I encounter
to all the melancholy after
a thought I'll remember
more striking than a bad news typed in
boldface

This might be like all the others where I put on a
bold face
to pick up one by one
the torn pieces of hope I set up way too high
but not to fix any part of my heart
fully secured
from similar events from before
tick tock tick tock
there, like time, like them, off you go

Off you go

I look at you and I am looking
at fireworks
Bright, blinding and fascinating
But my eyes are wide open
And I'm not interested
That you're way up in the sky
Unreachable
Everybody's looking up
like me
But not everybody's sick,
like me,
of watching bright colors unfold
of watching you ***** perfection
like it has to be gotten out of your system
because it's already too much
even your body can't handle it

Let me put it this way
Imagine all the butterflies
that rested their own chaos in my
stomach