PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

(Dedicated to Brittiany Hall)

(This is a true story)





Five years ago, while in sixth grade,

I felt a love for you that would never fade.

I had never been in love before,

and over Heaven, my heart would soar.

How could I be in love? I didn't know.

I thought it was make believe for a TV show.

I didn't understand it, but I knew it was real.

I felt a love for you; no one else could feel.

When I looked in your eyes, I was in a heavenly place,

and I was comforted with your warm and gentle grace.

You danced in my heart with a graceful motion,

and I poured into you, my deepest emotion.

With my love for you, my heart grew tender and warm,

and in its walls, held more power than a raging storm.

My love for you carried more strength than the strongest tidal wave,

and it was born of the same gold, from which the streets of Heaven were paved.

All was well, until that unforgettable Valentine's Day,

when I would express my love in the sweetest way.

A pink flower, a box of chocolates, and a teddy bear,

these were my choices to prove that I care.

You, on the other hand, gave me nothing instead,

but an index card, and this is what it said:



"Jerry,

    Thanks for the flowers and bear, but I don't

want to go out with you. Sorry, you are just not

my type. Everybody in our pod thinks I like you,

but I don't. Maybe we can just be friends. Sorry."



These were your words, written in blue ink.

These were the words that caused my heart to sink.

I remember as you slowly walked over to me.

I remember my eyes as they filled with tears

as I open your note, despite my fears.

I remember the lump in my throat.

I remember thinking I was going to choke.

I Remember not being able to breathe.

As I read your note, time no longer remain,

and I felt a feeling of devastation, I cannot explain.

I remember I couldn't move, I was frozen still

as a tear fell across my face against my will.

You said that you would be my friend,

but it was four years before our silenced would end.

That's right, the number of years was four.

You didn't speak a word to me until I was a sophomore.

Through the years, my love never diminished,

and every time I saw you, my hope was replenished.

And five years later from that day,

I wrote a poem for you just to say.

That I hope my love for you is not a crime,

and you will always be my first love for an eternity of time.



                         - Feb 1/ 2001