What Is Love?

May 15, 2011
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I was about to
open this book
and write a love poem.
But I’m tried of writing a
love poem without knowing
it myself.
I could lay here
and write a cliche love poem
about how he turns
my stomach to mush
or how my knees
give up on me.
I could perform a love poem
and pretend I’m so damn happy.
But the truth is
that inside
I’m very lonely.
I’m sick of waiting for love
to come knocking on my door.
I’m sick of seeing
a guy I really like
and knowing at first glance
he can never be mine.
As if being gay isn’t bad,
statistics prove that I’m more
likely to be bullied in school,
more likely to commit suicide,
and more likely to have problems
later on in life.
But I also found
that because I’m gay
I’m also more open to heartbreak.
And as I write this,
I can’t help but believe it’s true.
Last year,
I fell HARD for a straight guy.
I found out that a guy I liked,
who I knew couldn’t be mine,
just got a girlfriend.
I don’t understand
why for me,
it has to be straight guys.
Do I want a man so bad
that I’ll take anyone?
I said man because
I’m not dealing with no boys.
Boys are immature,
posting pictures of themselves
rolling blunts and smoking weed.
Like really?
What are you trying to prove
because all it’s proving
to me is that you’re nothing
but a little boy.
And yet boys claim
to be men.
Men...
Man.
I tend to like straight guys
because I want a guy’s guy.
The guy who will just surround me
with his arms.
The guy who will playfully
nibble on my ear.
The guy who doesn’t want me to go
but at the same time,
he knows I have to go.
The guy who will listen.
But it’s gotten to the point
where I’m just tried of waiting.
I don’t even wanna get out of bed
because of how alone I feel,
but I still do
because that small voice in my head
whispers to me
that maybe today will be the day.
The day I’ve been waiting for.
So far, I’ve spent Valentine’s Day alone,
I wished for a miracle on Christmas,
And on my birthday,
people can’t give me what I want.
I feel that I’ll give my heart
to somebody that says
they love me
but not mean it.
Will I let somebody sleep in my bed
and know that I’m sleeping with the enemy?
Should I keep hoping for love?
When will it be me?
Should I change for love?
I want a man to show me
so I can finally stop asking
and have the answer to:
“What is Love?”?





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