Young Writers Society

I blame nobody.
I take that back;
I blame myself
For thinking you honorable
Or chivalrous
Or gentlemanly.
But no.
 
I was only twelve
I didn’t care
About your age;
Only your actions
And your words,
Sounding like honey
In my ear.
 
I wanted an older brother
But got more than that
For which I had bargained.
I thought it was love
But I was too young
To understand.
 
Love is patient.
 
You say you’ll walk me home
But you ride ahead
On your bike
Laughing at me
To catch up.
 
You give me a flower
Then tear of the petals,
One by one,
Until all that is left
Is an empty stalk
 
Love is kind.
 
Time passes
You see me with another;
One who respects me
And treats me like a lady,
And your eyes turn green,
Your favorite color.
 
I explain to you
That he and I are just friends,
But you are jealous,
And think that
You are second-best.
 
Love is not envious.
 
You always tease me:
Saying you’re taller
And older
And have more
Technological toys.
 
I play along
But just wish
You would give it a rest
For once.
 
Love is not proud or boastful.
 
We sneak out
To meet each other
In the middle
Of the blackest night.
I agree to this once
But then try to back out.
 
But you beckon me
Again and again.
I break away
And don’t show up.
So you shower me
With guilt
For leaving you
Alone.
 
Love is not self seeking or dishonoring of others.
 
I break it off.
Knowing that this is not right;
That this is not where I should be.
You are hurt;
That I can understand.
And I am sorry
For your pain.
 
But then you rant
With your vulgar
And hurtful words;
Words I never thought
Would belong to you.
And it opens my eyes
To who you are.
 
Love is not easily angered.
 
You blame me
And I take it,
For all you say is true.
I am impulsive and short-tempered
And so strong willed;
All to which my auburn hair
Gives too much credit.
 
It was my fault;
What I said and how I reacted.
But I try so hard
To think things through,
And I had thought
About the future.
And I had done
What I knew was best
For both of us.
 
Love keeps no record of wrongs.
 
I regret nothing,
No, I regret much.
But will change nothing
I said
Or felt
Or cried
 
Love does not delight in evil
but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects,
always trusts,
always hopes,
always perseveres.
 
I thought that you
Were honorable
Or chivalrous
Or gentlemanly.
 
I thought, at least,
That you were my friend.
I thought, at most,
That you loved me
And, because of that,
Would respect me.
But you didnt.
 
Love never fails.
 
This must never have been love.