This is not a love poem
this is an I love you do you love me like
I love you poem
do you know me like
you think you do poem
this is a would you be disappointed
if you did poem
an I have been feeling the chilling of the air
and I cant tell if it is just the fault of the season
or if you, too, are cooling
whatever heat you had for me
browning and falling and
crumbling between my fingers
like the leaves of these oak trees
in november poem
a what would I need to do to keep us warm poem
and this is also
an I may be completely mistaken poem
an it was seventy degrees today poem
this is a show me I am completely mistaken poem

I'm easy to love.
Yet I am hard to be with.
My heart is so big and so full,
But my soul so empty and dark.
When I am happy my smile lights up the sky
When I am sad, I am devastated, my tears crash around me as the unstoppable thunderstorms in my eyes rage on.
I give myself wholly to you, everything I have and all that I am, completely.
The problem is when I do that there is nothing left to give myself, and I am left hollow and dim.
I will tell you how much I love you every day and show you I care with little acts of kindness.
An hour later I will find myself lashing out violently with angry hands and shouted words.
I promise I will never leave you,
I can't promise you will never want me to.
I am easy to fall for,
But I am hard to stay with.

I am the glue that holds your mind together,
You are the scissors that slash my sadness apart.

I've been waiting far too long for you,
And like rain falls to the earth, spellbound,
Endless chances cascade from the sky,
You stand still and watch them hit the ground.

Loyalty, lies, and love for you,
Hold me in place though my heart grows numb,
The tragic part is all along
I knew deep down you'd never come.

I have not learned how to sit still,
**** it, I never will.  Nor have I learned
How not to wave my arms when I speak;
By now I should know some words
For the mourners’ congregation by the gravestone;
Not me.

I hate drum-rolls and ******* guitar licks
That blasts in the frozen food section.  
I cannot just ignore Spider-man movies,
I’d rather descend to the ninth rung of hell.
Hogs eat corn, "Je n’aime pas le popcorn",
Hippo gluttony in fields of river plants
Chomp, chomp, chomp...

Teenagers chewing gum, taking selfies-
Where is the love, where is the love?
I can’t talk to Siri without cursing.
Who cares who wins the football game?
Could I see a beautiful woman
And not undress her in my mind?

Sorry, it’s the meds.  What have I learned
But "blessed be patience"
Which I interpret as
The world is too busy with its traffic of red ants-
Stand aloof, keeping out of their path.
  
I go to join the cult of crazies in the park,
Muttering metaphors to keep us off the drink,
Winding our watches, feeding birds,
Headphones blasting requiems of Pergolesi,
As the young ones keep their distance.