Origami Hearts Shaped like Poetry

Pepperoni pizza,
plastic round tables that never sit quite right,
grease,
the smell of grease,
and you.
We met here, didn't we?
We were reborn in the mozzarella,
found ourselves in the green peppers,
you told me, in between bites of sausage,
"No one has ever made me feel like this."
And we made Valentine's out of tomato sauce,
and beaded friendship bracelets with olives,
and I kissed you for the first time,
and we both tasted like crust and meat and onion.
And it was beautiful.
And you were beautiful in red and green and white.
But every pizza has its last slice,
and maybe love is just a pizzeria,
and everyone who ever loves is just trying
to savor something they're doomed to finish.
And I was still grabbing for a slice that never existed,
and you sat across from me,
napkin already in the box,
and told me we were finished.
And I choked on my Pepsi,
and you didn't care.
Did you ever care?
You wiped the grease off your fingers,
the sauce off your face,
and my presence from your life.
And all I had to show for it was an wet cardboard box,
and my breaking heart.

Spoiler

Poetic form: Free Verse

I've always loved this coffee shop,
it makes me feel at home.
There's familiarity in the roasted scent,
and a peace bubbling in the espresso,
and a beautiful woman across from me.

Your lipstick stains your paper cup,
but you're too busy laughing to notice.
It sounds like wedding bells and birdsong,
and my stomach does somersaults.
I've always loved this coffee shop.

You clink our drinks together,
ceramic against cardboard,
bubbly soul across from anxious mess.
You take my hand in yours,
it makes me feel at home.

And something new is here,
but everything important is returning in different faces.
Even as you turn my sharp edges into putty,
I am who I have always been.
There's familiarity in the roasted scent.

We are living in a cliche,
but nothing about this meet-cute feels forced.
We have affection steeping in our souls,
dark chocolate roses in our eyes,
and peace bubbling in the espresso.

So now I am relearning how to swallow,
my fluttering heart disrupting my every move.
But I can't regret this arrangement:
a saccharine future ahead of me,
and a beautiful woman across from me.

Spoiler

Poetic Form: Cascade

It's Only a Lifetime, Don't Refuse

Everyone wants love,
and I am just not special,
but you seem to be.

I give you flowers,
and you give me side-eyed stares.
Please be my answer.

But you just refuse!
You throw away my flowers
and my heart with them.

Why do you do this?
Why am I not good enough?
Why don't you love me?

I will give you my whole soul!
I'm begging you to take it.

Spoiler

Poetic Form: Haiku Sonnet

Charred Hearts and Crumbling Walls

Our precious kingdom is on fire,
the ash and embers paint our sky a gothic black.

The new dress code is oxygen masks;
(our cracked hearts are dying of smoke inhalation)

What brick snapped to bring the castle down?
(What loveless sin did I commit to ruin us?)

You are wailing, and I can hear you
and I am apologizing and groveling.

(I never wanted to destroy us.
Please tell me how to turn back time to fix this!)

But you wipe your eyes, smearing the ash,
and you tell me fires can be put out with water.

So I turn my words into spring rain;
I hold you close as the flood drowns out the heartbreak.

(But the rain doesn't fix everything;
the city smolders; the smoke still paints the sky.)

But even still, we are still breathing;
the hacking coughs that wrack our system can't stop us.

And I bask in our apocalypse;
(maybe love has to hurt in order to survive.)

Spoiler

Poetic Form: Landay

Snowmelt

Your smile is a summer breeze,
and my heart trembles in your wake.
My ribs are marked with glacial striations,
but your hands hold wildflowers and birdsong.
I want my world to hibernate,
but it follows your command to roam.

The moon never stood a chance against the sun.

Winter quivers in the face of spring,
a pathetic attempt to crush the flower buds.
But the bees come anyway,
and snow becomes slush becomes flower food.
You take my hand and turn it into spring thaw,
and I am a pathetic attempt to hold summer at bay.
But you are June, ever looming over February,
and I'm straining to hold you at bay.

The moon never stood a chance against the sun.

I feel water fill my chest cavity;
my protests have turned to liquid.
The last of the snow melts in my hair,
and now I'm just your pretty spring stream.
You giggle and put daises behind my ear,
and we make the spring equinox our home.

The moon never stood a chance against the sun.

Spoiler

Poetic Form: The Bop