His name was Innuendo

I'm supposed to write about love. And if you haven't noticed, almost all of my posts are about love.

But here's the truth. I have no idea what love is.

Because in 3rd grade I thought love was that boy letting me sit with him on the monkey bars. He gave me a troll doll with rainbow hair and I thought "This is love."

I lost my doll in the sandbox the next day.

In 7th grade he told me my hair looked nice and I started planning my dream wedding with my dream guy who said I had nice hair. And I thought "This is love."

At lunch I saw him playing with the Lexi the track star's hair.

At the end of 9th grade he took my hand and said he would teach me how to kiss. He touched my cheek and tasted my lips and I thought "This is love."

He told my best friend he would teach her how to kiss too.

And when I decided I was done with love, that boy showed up with his honey smile and said "I love you"

So I let him love me. Maybe a little too much. But he said I was gorgeous and "it feels so good." And after a while I thought "Is this love?"

I have no idea what love is. 

Maybe it's just another 4 letter word that should be considered a curse.

 Maybe it's a synonym for happiness. 

I guess I write about the love that I wish existed, and maybe it does.

 But if it doesn't, at least I've always been good at pretending. 

Haikus About Boys I've Loved

How to date a Human

1. Hold his hand and if you're lucky he might trace his name into your veins
because every human wants to belong to someone.

2. It's never too early in the morning to say I love you.

3. Give her kisses. Humans crave kisses. On the forehead. On the cheek. On the small of her back.
Kiss her until she forgets what it's like to breathe her own air.
Kiss her until she remembers she's alive.
Kiss her flaws until she loves them as much as you do.

4. Say their name often and your human will adore you.

5. Handle with care, they break easily.

How to Love Your Introvert

Watch this. And you'll understand me a lot better.

The morning after I killed myself

The morning after I killed myself I woke up. I made my bed and picked my shoes up off the floor.
I wore my favorite shirt that went out of style a year ago.
I ate a double chocolate brownie
and then I ate another one.

The morning after I killed myself I told that boy I loved him. Not the boys who whistled at me on my morning runs or the boys that tried to take me up to the canyon.
It was the boy that always had headphones in during class, but took them out when I said hi.
Today he didn't take his earbuds out. He stared at the ground with stone cold eyes.

The morning after I killed myself I walked past the girls in school that usually whispered and laughed about my clothes.
Instead they looked at each other with guilt painted on their lips.
I said it was okay that they made fun of me all those years.

The morning after I killed myself I held my mom as she sobbed on my bedroom floor, clinging to notes I wrote in 5th grade that said "Thank you for everything you do I love you mom"
I held my dad's hand when he curled up in his office with the door locked, regretting to schedule that extra meeting before coming home.

I sat by my best friend as she replayed the dance video we made at 3 in the morning that summer. And replayed it and replayed it and replayed it.

I watched the neighborhood girls pick flowers and put the yellow poppies in each others hair. I followed the clouds dancing slowly and let the sun touch my scars. I listened to the old man down the street whistle as he carried a picnic basket up the hill. His wife held his hand gently behind him.

The morning after I killed myself I walked to the cemetery where men in jeans were digging my grave. I decided I could have made it. High school wasn't that bad. They did care about me. I could have picked flowers too. The sun felt good and my mom was kind.

The morning after I killed myself I decided I wanted to live. But we don't always get what we want, do we?

* this is my personal take on a poem written by Meggie Royer. Thank you for inspiring me to share my own emotions related to this topic.

Pencil Romance

I tried writing our story in pen 

because in high school

black and white seems more practical 

when we're young they tell us that love will last forever

since love is sharing crayons and holding hands when you cross the street

 now it's pencil for math and pen for English 

and there's no room for coloring outside the lines

how am I supposed to live in black and white

when I've got you

 with your chocolate eyes and silver touch

when you say my name and then I'm every shade of pink

I'm a blue and no one seems to like it

but your orange compliments make me feel like we're meant to be

and sleep is lavender when I'm dreaming of you

this time I'll make sure to mess up and throw away the eraser

because your the best accident that I ever made

so darling, please pass me the crayons

what is love

I cannot seem to decipher 

the code that unlocks the emotion I feel for you

Nor can I determine

what this burning sensation is 

that slips through every vein connected to my heart

I do not know if my restless thoughts 

are caused by an adoration of you

or an absence of it

But one thing I am certain of

Is the emptiness I feel when you are away 

And how I long for your presence near me

To feel complete

Why boys and girls can't be friends

Late night talks about math class and dates gone wrong
Spontaneous sushi runs and shopping trips
Jamming out in the car to T Swift and not caring how bad she danced
A friendship so deep he had mistaken it for love

Knee touches at the movie theater that turned into
Hand holding and leg rubs
Which turned into ear tugging and "the look"
A first kiss so passionate he had mistaken it for lust

Awkward silences on the car ride home
Questioning looks with no answers
Not sure if they were just friends or something more
A heartbreak so unbearable when he said he needed "time"

Walking past in the hall without a word
Typing countless texts she would never send
He waited for a call that never came
With teary eyes she walked away, mistaken he meant goodbye

This is definitely about hats...

You thought this was going to be a post about hats didn't you.

Distance

By Rosie P.

Distance could be 

The space between my

head on your chest

And your lips

Distance could be 

How far away that star is

From the tip of my finger

Distance could be

 One hundred thousand miles long

Or one glance away 

Distance could be 

A more bearable word

If it meant I was closer to you.

If you're disappointed this really isn't about hats just replace "Distance" with "Hats" and you've got a whole post about hats. Boom. 

Heartstrings

I'm not your puppet anymore.

You said things would be better now

but with you there are always strings attached

my lips are stitched with a triple knot to yours

and you can't see the scars on my lungs

from the goodbye I've managed to hold inside

you never asked if I wanted your heartstrings tied to mine

the noose kiss on my neck is starting to ache

and I can't get out of this death grip you call affection

so please just cut me loose

before I forget how to breathe without you tugging at my strings