Announce that you love me. At least to your best friends. I can’t bear to think that I’m not your trophy to be proud of. I can’t accept that my ray of light becomes dimmer day by day. I can’t stand the thought of sitting like a tomb in your soul, camouflaging with darkness that engulfs all sense of love. I can’t swallow the fact your face didn’t spark when you said I was your everything. I can’t comprehend when my existence in your world ain’t shimmer like a dewdrop catching the sun.

Announce that you love me. At least to your siblings. I don’t want to stay timid in the darkest compartment of your heart. I refuse to admit that you ignore me in four days — summer, autumn, winter and spring; three days — yesterday, today and tomorrow; two days — day and night; one day — everyday. I deny that you don’t feel immortal anymore when I linger around you. I oppose the idea of maybe your love to me is paperweight.

Announce that you love me. At least to your heart. Do my picture still be your favourite wallpaper? Do your heart palpitates everytime you hear my name?  Do my warm embrace puts an end to your insecurities? Do your mind still replays our memories of spending time together when sun came out, and we were miles away from anywhere? Do. I. Actually. Exist. In. Your. Universe?

I never doubt my love to you. It is you who should stop underappreciating me, and start loving again.

You look in the mirror and know bloating is your enemy
You have people tell you, you are too flat
You are not skinny, you are not fat
When food can be your frenemy

You put in all this work
You have people tell you it will never be enough
You are not strong, you are not weak
When your body can call your bluff

You always try and stick to the rules
You have people tell you that you could do better and include this and that
You are not memorable, you are not forgetful
When your diet looks like something you do not get at

I use the rage to fuel my fire
I think about my past desire

Despite my love gone lost
It pains me with such cost

I fuel my fire with images of us
I remember all the pain and mistrust

Despite my pretentious past
The dumb bells in my hands, I grasp.

I workout to my own tune.
I'll leave you behind, like apple left zune.

Like all others, I hated high school.
It was a scrawny waif that I remember seated at the front of the class.
I raised my hand at every question to endless ridicule,
and people whispered I was weak for trying to be "such a smart-***".

Now people think I lack brains because I own a barbell and bench.
What they don't know is that it's all an extension of my first love: Science.

Every morning, I don my hooded polyester lab coat.
I write theorems in drops of sweat on a rubber padded mat.
I experiment with the practicality of the theorems I wrote;
I know my hypothesis is correct when veins bulge and muscles catch.

Breathing shallow, in ragged determined gasps of air,
I put my theory to the test. Veins bulge, muscles strain.
There is no joy like the joy I know when I find my theory correct. I call it
The Warrior Poet Principle: One can in fact have brawn as well as brain.

I've accomplished the task I set myself in high school's lonely halls,
I vowed that I'd never be that weak waif again.
Hiding bruises from pimple faced tyrants who had me by my *****,
I persevered, and I grew my thews and thesis in twain.

**Now by neither tyrant nor textbook will I ever be chained.