Poetry?

     I don't get poetry. There are so many other ways to express yourself. I like haiku, but mostly because I can't write anything serious. I mean, what's the point of making things rhyme or giving your thoughts strange formats? I know 10 years ago I couldn't get enough of the stuff. I was also an obnoxious and angsty teenager. I always have ideas for poems or I'll think of a single line that I'll fall in love with. It never progresses from there. I'd much rather have pages of thoughts that I can be more exact with. I've grown a certain distaste for ambiguity and cryptic messages in my wordplay. Although this could just be my lack of talent speaking.

To be continued...

     So, I keep starting posts, but then deciding against it because there's no real content. So I figured 3 beginnings is almost a full piece. I know, I'm a horrible slacker.

1.
     I miss you. Feelings are stupid things. From a logical perspective, you're a jerk and I should harbor nothing but contempt for your mere existence. Unfortunately, I forget what logic even is when I think about you. Is that what love is?

2.
     Every group has one. You all know "that guy." That self-centered, skirt-chasing, over-bearing douchebag. In my group, that's me.

3.
     I sometimes forget that I can be fierce. Not necessarily in a crazy way, just that I am strong-willed and can have a civil conversation where my victory is the only option. I don't know why I let myself be painted into corners. I just know that I'm on top of the universe right now. It's been over 24 hours and the feeling remains. I'm hoping there's a way to keep this feeling without being overly confrontational all the time. Although, would that really be so bad?

     I had ideas to turn these into complete thoughts. I still have anecdotes, thoughts on robots, and dick jokes. Just no way of working it 'til I'm content. Yay for half-assing a piece!

What is love?

It's magenta.
It's hot and cold at the same time.
It's goosebumps triggered by a single thought.
It's conversations without purpose.
It's ridiculous facial expressions.
It's inside jokes.
It's showers so long the water turns to ice.
It's butterflies that last for days.
It's not taking poetry seriously.
It's noticing the little changes.
It's appreciation in every form.
It's silly haircuts you dream about.
It's art.
It's passion.
It's absolutely perfect without being anything at all.

It's how my heart breaks every time he goes.