it was a kiss on the lips and a tinge of pink
rising on the cheeks
it was heated, warm, wet
never comfortable
yet so exciting and thrilling
it was risky and terrifying
but it was easy and cool

it was a few little blue words
on the screen of a monitor
little bee stings
to a boy who was far too allergic

it was easy to be
naive and stupid
and so
hopelessly endlessly wholly
holy
holy
wholly in love

it was so hard
trying and hurtful to pluck the stingers from my
skin
not my heart
never my heart
because im alive still alive
alive to this day

it's now a low tint
not quite enough to be a blush
not quite
h
     h
        h
          o
              t
               t
                 t
enough to
make me stir and squirm and
want more more
please more

oh love,
to be so carefree and happy
to fall endlessly and heavily into your arms

it was so beautiful
and so ugly
and so
so so
...
i dont know

sometimes i think about talking to people.

then i get to thinking
why would i do that when i could
not.

i feel a certain sense of
exhaustion and tired and dead and dull and dread and
i wish i could explain
why its cutting and twisting and irking and twitching and
it's really not easy
to just write it off as
a thing
that we
all do
because
why not
our bodies like it
i'm not you and you don't feel me
you don't understand
this thing is a twisting writhing turning
and it is mine not yours never yours
so shush.

i'm not good with words
i write what i mean
and what i mean to
tell you is that
i love you and it
is so imperfect
but for some reason
i try        anyway
just               like
writing                        words.

ex's and oh's
hugs and kisses
happy smiles
dreadful horrible
cheerful winks
subtle gestures
telling of
desire and passion
barely contained
restrained
then released
at which point
like butterflies
or their less
attractive friends
moths, they
scatter and disperse
and are gone
leaving only
bleeding hearts
chapped, winter-kissed
lips, peeling and
stinging as they
frown pretty.

wise man once said
actions can talk while
words sit and
write sad poems
about how they
really feel and
never really confide
to you
about how you
burned what was
left of their little
hearts.
but don't worry
i think they
get the hint
when you turn
away
when all they want
is a kiss.

i could use a
dose of tragedy,
a pinch of drama,
something to
gain a little
empathy or
affirmation.
i think You and i
should skip dinner
and the date
and the awkward
quiet ride home
and we should
get in a
car crash
Together
it will be so
romantic.

rhyme meter
sonnet, etc.
let's take our words
and call them art
instead of empty
meaningless vessels
that do and say
little
until you
pick them up
read
listen
learn
love
and fill these
empty shells
with meaning and
heart
yourself

like
i mean
really
so
um
but
i dunno
i mean
you know
i dunno
but yeah
so
i guess
i
er
you know
i mean
not that
i just
yeah
you get it
right?