To My First Love

To my first love Know that I find words on broken lips, caresses in crooked teeth, sweet nothings on fishing rod tongues Crushes on Rudy Franciscos, Miles Hodges', Oscar Wildes, and God himself I find nothings in somethings and catastrophic things in miniscule things Harsh days in bright light and sunrays in midnight I hate black coffee but love black tea and even though I'm a poet, I don't need to know how the world works, spins, evolves, exists I just need to know the words to describe it Because my words are my passion, my arteries, my lungs And to strip me of them is to leave me for dead in the hollows of poet Hell That's an algebra class if you didn't know it I take trust falls in figures of speech Exaggerated hand movements, voice control, and swaying motions I do not trust easily But when I do, I trust fully and deeply My mind becomes a museum and our late night pillow talks will turn into a tour guide of my deepest darkest fears Like spiders discovering steroids and maximizing to Optimus Prime size Or blacking out on stage and waking up to find that my voice has been hijacked and my tongue has developed early onset alzheimers So now it's just me and the crowd and their listening ears and my growing anxiety that they'll finally see that the me behind the words isn't so interesting You'll see all my weird ticks and OCD like micro managing Like when you say my middle name and I don't hear Monique, but whore: hope you can live up to this Or when you clamp your teeth down too swiftly and it makes that weird chopping noise that makes me cringe and retreat into my ear drums to bang them for being stupid enough to listen Or when you hear me but you don't listen to my poetry When my messages cocoon themselves around your ears like flares sent into the sky as a warning or a question, or begging for reassurance And you tell me "that poem was great. I can really hear what you're saying" But can you feel what I'm portraying? First love, you must know that I don't carry love with me I store it in plastic water proof bins To protect it from natural diasters, tears I've she'd on old friends It's in a safe behind my dictionary so when I finally exhaust my vocabulary I can resort to clichés, sunsets and bible verses Promises better laid on deaf ears than open hearts I am guarded Heavily By open phrases, snaps, and shared memories Literary rants and eights..lots and lots of eights I hope you comprehend that your words are the most attractive thing about you Not the way you're so unsure about everything except your movements with me Or how your body's imperfections are on the most perfect parts of your body But the way you say Chicago And how I've turned into my pet name so the couple times you slip and let Brianna leave your lips are the most rewarding The insecurities about your sincerities And how you feel open enough with me to let your memories roam free without fear of backlash even if they have an ex or two in them Your words can end me Because the weight of them in tremendous I weigh words more than actions which is probably why I had to lock my heart away from my lips Because sometimes they can't keep up with each other And the thought that sometimes your lips will lie to me is devastating I hope you know that since you've weasled your way into my chest cavity through cobwebs and dust storms, keep out tape, and body outlines You will be seared into me like a white hot brand of what is,used to be, and never was for an eternity I hope you love me Not that normal people love, that poetic tragedy That words can't describe this but I'm gonna use as many synonyms and metaphors as the world allows to exist And when I finish, I'll drag pen across concrete and etch out my own infinity Our infinity And though I'll love you as an extension of me- not an arm or a leg, but a heart string The only thing with more gravity than our feelings Know that even my lips open up for lies sometimes and you are not my first love by any means First love I hope you can handle my first love