In Like

This is a poem for an old friend of mine. I do remember you. I just don't talk to you any more. Sorry about that. It's irrepairable though. Don't ask. This one's for you Melly.

Most people call it Love.
We call it Like.
Go figure.

Everyone else tells me I’m crazy.
Not you.
Perhaps we’re both wrong, together.

Love, Like, it’s pretty much all the same.
Isn’t it?
Well, there are a few differences.

One main difference is that Love is far more special.
Something I think we revere too much to just toss it around.
Far too much to say, and possibly be wrong about.

Dear, I can’t wait for the day
When we finally see each other through God’s eyes.
What a day that will be.

You mean so much to me.
I do enjoy the time we spend together,
And look forward to a lot more time in the future.

Pain

This is a poem based on just that general feeling you get when doubt settles in during a relationship. It comes out of nowhere, and is probably based on nothing, and will probably go away when the current situation passes, but nonetheless, it is there.



In my soul it rests.
A feeling deeper than anything.
I don’t want it there.
It doesn’t belong there.
What happened to the old days?
When we were happy together?
No care in the world.
Suddenly gone.

I don’t want to admit it.
I want to deny it.
To deny it would be to get rid of it.
I thought I had made the right decision for once.
But now I’m having second thoughts.
But why?

Is it based on anything?
Or is it just a random feeling that’s coming from nowhere?
Perhaps I must face it.
Discuss it, be open with it.
But perhaps that will instill it where I don’t want it.
Who knows.

Ah well, guess I shall deny it for now.
Wait until it is so large that it hurts.
Perhaps it never will.
That’d be nice.
Yeah, right.