Before that point, I can say life was a pretty dull place,
But then I heard your name, and then I saw your face,
Your face was a jewel, complimented by hair like black silk,
You hung out with "those" girls, but you weren't of their ilk,
"No, you're smarter than them," I would tell her in my head,
Because that's as close as I could get without turning red,
I took many half steps, and had many missed chances,
"Why is it that you often don't come to the dances?
You're pretty, you're smart, people like you, don't you see?
Why don't you talk to many people, why don't you talk to people like me?"
I become bitter, I think things that Cain himself would scorn,
I step back, and I think: "When was such a monster born?"
You confuse me, but you complete me, and I think: "Is this really my fate?
To confuse an emotion like love with one such as...hate?"
YOU ARE READING
Is This Love?
PoetryJust a short poem referencing the questions many teenagers ask themselves when experiencing a conflict of emotions and thoughts: Am I going crazy? Do I really feel this way? Am I an awful person? Enjoy, and if you don't, my bad.
