My teenage years were like everyone else's teenage years. I spent time with my friends, I giggled at boys, and tried to figure out what life was all about. I was very ungraceful when it came to speaking, so most of the time, if I had something to say, I wrote it down. Here are my teenage thoughts on Love.
Daisy
He loves me... he loves me not.
... he's the one I've always sought.
He loves me... he loves me not.
... I've known him since he was a tot.
He loves me... he loves me not.
... I think since then he's changed a lot.
He loves me... he loves me not.
... In fact, I heard that he smokes pot.
He loves me... he loves me not.
... You should have seen the girl he brought
He loves me... he loves me not.
...Unless I'm wrong, he called her "Dot"
He loves me... he loves me not.
... that day, they just fought and fought.
... that day, they just fought and fought.
He loves me... he loves me not.
... now she sleeps in a different cot.
He loves me... he loves me not.
... too bad, there was a ring he'd bought.
He loves me... he loves me not.
... Rumors say it's worth a yacht.
He loves me... he loves me not.
... but he might have another thought.
He loves me... he loves me not.
... and that's where I can join the plot.
He loves me... he loves me not.
... Do you think we might tie the knot?
He loves me...
He loves me not.
... He should be shot.
~written when I was in eighth grade (or so)
I would admit to loving you,
but saying "love" would burn my lips.
The strength that such a word ensues
Is far beyond mentality's tips.
I beg of you do not enrage
My heart must know before I tell
As yet I am not bold to say
I love you, though I care quite well.
~written around my junior year in High School
Yep, I liked poetry. And love, evidently.
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