You don't know me, but I know Love.

I only know what I've learned and I can only tell what I've experienced, but

I know Love.

Some people think he's Cupid, but

I know Love like I know Santa, or like I respect JFK.

I know Love like a friend, like a best friend. 

Sometimes we fight and sometimes we have secret handshakes, but we never forget.

I know what Love likes and what Love gives.

Love lays on worn trampolines and finds the stars even on a cloudy night.

Love will never let you go on the roller-coaster alone, even if he is terrified, of heights.

Love always remembers your birthday. Even if he pretends like he doesn't.

His favorite sandwich is whichever yours is.

When you smell Love, its like maple syrup. or Brownies.

You always know that Love is coming because a swarm of butterflies flit around him and 

reach you before he does.

Sometimes Love leaves, but he will never abandon. 

Because whenever that song comes on, it reminds you of Love, and you want to skip it, but

you don't.

Because you miss Love.

You miss Love's touch and you miss his warmth and you miss his endless excuses for being late.

Love sometimes has a bad reputation.

He likes to keep his reputation up, but Hate and Regret frequently ruin it.

Love rolls around with kittens and kisses puppy faces. 

Love always dresses like..You know. You know how Love dresses.

He always remembers to tuck in his shirt and comb his hair, but

he never smokes.

Love forces you to forget your other friends, so be careful.

Love caresses your hand and touches your cheek and respects you.

Love does not disrespect.

Love respects you and respects your values and respects your body.

Love knows your worth.

Love will send you pictures of puppies when you are sad, and

Love will put up with your crap.

Sometimes Love gets tired, but he never gives up. Ever.

Love passes in the hall and smiles even when you don't look up.

His favorite food is sugar.

Sometimes Love will ask you for sugar, but he won't accept it unless 

he knows you really want him to have it.

Love never dies and will always listen, no matter 

who you are or what you look like or even if you are black or white or asian.

A list of things Love loves:

balloons sugar cupcakes books twizzlers music lovesong simonandgarfunkle memories earphones trombones buttons matches chewedfingernails ellafitzgerald beanbags doves weddingcake lipstick clock flames whiplash stainedglasswindows nutella pretzels rosecoloredglasses homeadebread chickennoodlesoup snow airconditioning anklebraces pictureframes bicyclesandlongboards gnome 7peaks oldcameras typewriters

Reminders of human-ness

The heart that beats inside my chest reminds me of my life--my life of constancy, of monotony, of slow, rhythmic beating. The heart that pumps blood into my veins and sends streams of red down my scratched skin. The heart that trembles at the sight of misfortune and delights in its own wallowing misery. The heart that longs for love but avoids the thrashing damage of heartbreak.

I'm awakened to my sense of imperfection and humanity when I make mistakes; I stand steady until I'm alone. I know I'm human when I lay flat on my mattress and cry. Cry until the hot tears run down my face and down my cheeks and into my ears and down into me where their wet whispers tell me I'm imperfect and I'm awful and that Nobody likes me. Their salty solution stains my satin pillow and remind me of my faults.

i
           cant
                      tell
                              you
                                        how
                                                   much
                                                                  i would love
                                                                                         to  be
                                                                                                                a
                                                                                                                                   robot.
And who knows, I could be. But my inadequate lungs try their hardest to keep up with me, and my arms can't hold my heartdesires. My chest rises without fail. My brain never stops talking, but can never compute.
I know I can't possibly be a robot when I attempt to close my eyes and instead hear taunts and fantasies from an unorganized novel that will never be published.

I hope, I desire, I crave. I feel, I wait, I want. I hate bad endings and I hate being subject to servitude. I hate, I detest, I feel contempt. I taste, I discover, I create. I long for originality but I copy and paste. I wonder, I learn, I am lost in confusion. I make mistakes and I crash the car and I burn myself and cut myself and bruise myself and burn and cut and bruise everyone else.

I tempt.

*Alice