Healthy Relationships

Love is the butterflies that you get when you think of the things that get you obsessed

when you think of her hair and her chest and her breasts,

not because of some sex

but because you’re impressed.

When you think of that fine Nubian princess,

her body her temple, her mind her fortress.

She gets you wriggling in your seat from your feet to your neck,

when you’re sitting in class and you can’t shake her out of your head.

She becomes all that you think, all you adore.

You find yourself thinking of her more and the more

and your face blushes red, you black out instead,

you fall out on the floor with a mixture of dread and regret,

‘cause she still has no idea the feelings you wish you could shed.

She knows not of the messages you’ve passed to your friends,

about all of the things that you wished manifested,

nor does she know of the poem you’ve typed and polished

and of all the bathroom breaks that you took just make something fresh.

Can you even call it love?

When you just started talking,

just this weekend,

and you’ve just been festering these fermented guesstimations.

You can only GUESS what the feelings suggest,

but you cannot put to rest the swelling in your chest,

you cannot walk around with butterflies and hold your head high

you wanna just flee, but why should I fret.

It eats at you, eats at you.

Makes you a mess.

You can’t even decide if it’s infatuation,

or misguided young love that’ll pass when it’s all said and done.

You could throw everything just to grab just that one.

You could put everything on the line just to jump that one gun.

I mean when she laughs at your jokes, and she likes geeky things,

and you get to chokin at the sight of her in those blue jeans.

She has a deeper personality than the Red Sea

and y’all can talk all night till day breaks from the seams.

And you watch Stranger Things 2 with a bright LED lamp light,

all of the night.

and she keeps you up even after the night,

and the next night, you wonder why you didn’t ask her the very first night.

What goes through the mind of that girl when she gots you

right in her sights?

What does she think when she looks right

in your eyes?

She has a boyfriend, but how when she smiles at you like you are that guy?

I feel like such is a healthy relationship,

when you both can naturally feel the same things,

and feel all of the feelings mentioned in this same string

of lines that you’ve drawn and carefully crafted

to get this feeling off your chest and words drafted.

A healthy relationship is being certain that you are secure in your relationship with such a person,

To where you and her are written on the same page,

and no other boyfriend or outside entity can rip it like Beyblades.

So what do you do when you’ve established one part of the book,

but the rest of it is unwritten?

What do you do when you know what you want,

but you have no idea if she is even the slightest bit smitten?

When you have no idea what she even feels or thinks?

When you don’t even know if you’ll swim or sink?

How do you commit to a healthy relationship,

when you don’t know if she likes you,

or if the friend zone is right over the brink?

I guess you’ll just have to get her to write her pages,

and see what she thinks.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
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