I love a boy, and he left me– a poem

“My hobbies include having conversations with myself– 

Like how I could approach a boy today, 

Without scaring him or sounding too dumb, 

Without outsmarting him, because that would be too proud, 

Like how I could introduce myself, without talking about the boy, I once loved

Or the boy I was once was. 

But I can’t do either without talking about the other,

Hello, my name is Belo Writes. 

I have tendency of writing poetry during serious matters– 

Like the time, I wrote a poem when a preacher said I am going to hell.

You see, that was my favorite poem: 

Because at that time, I was silent, 

I was alone, and I was afraid.

Let me just say, I love fear; 

It reminds me of all the things I could do in silence,

Like loving myself without negotiating my worth. 

But I am also a boy that once loved– 

Perhaps more than he should have; 

I call him at night, 

At least I do that in my dreams when he doesn’t pick up my calls.

Sometimes I write him poems: 

I write about his lisp, and the clutch of his lips,

I write about his loud silence, 

Like he is thinking of how best to hurt me next.

Sometimes I laugh at him and at myself,

But mostly at myself– 

About how I was such a fool,

Foolish enough to love, 

To love in such a lazy manner,  

To miss his scent and his touch.

I love a boy, and he left.”

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