What's love, but boyish hands
throwing my trust back...

I saw her standing there,
a peerless silhouette of...

I keep reading
our last drivel...

I feel deflated, like a birthday balloon
post party...

Why not avow my poem
its restitution...

Bought
comfort...

I'm enthralled by those certain girls
who sport red lipstick...

Love-
why do I even try...

Hey there best friend
could you possibly wag your sharp tongue...

Bright stars hang themselves
upon midnight's scenery...

I use to pinch you like a flower
between my pursed lips...

Sometimes I skip breakfast
and eat poems instead...