You make me itch
Like a wound half healed
I scratch and pick.
Sideling up to you,
trying to sneak back into love
I almost do.
keyword I
not you.
You make me itch
Now look I'm bleeding again.

An acquaintance

Stopped to ask me

If perhaps someone

Such as I would be

Called a cannibal

For eating fruit loops

However dear reader

As fruity as I am I

Highly doubt I'm edible

The things you’ve said
The things that happened
Burned in my memories
I close my eyes
It all plays on repeat
Like a broken record

Can I kiss you?
Don't ask me, just do.
But I want to, I want to hear it from you.
Can I kiss you?
Yes yes, kiss me you fool!!!
Lips meet, hearts beat, temperatures rise.
I kiss you again.
But you didn't ask.
She asks, Why?
I didn't need to, I saw the answer in your eyes.

I did not cry today, and I fear

For I could not find one thing

to bring my heart to tears.

Have I grown callus,

Have I grown cold,

Has anger replaced empathy,

or am I just growing old.

Does age exempt my tears,

or have I just run dry.

It saddens me Deeply,

but not enough to cry.

In his arrogance, he promised her the World

In his defeat, all he could afford her was his heart

In reality, his heart was all she ever wanted

It meant the World to her

My love is not dependent on return
My love never needed to be learned
Nuances have been molded
sculpted, and refined
But the love,My Love
The very core of it
Is blind.