Hazy but Hopeful for Clarity: Anthology from my written journals

01 - I've been in love

To pretentious me,
and to the pretentious me's poetry subject,
my mind's plague,

You are becoming less of a boy I know,
to a boy I want to love.

I have little reasons why
I let this happen. Why
I let myself feel this
almost forbidden but
entirely forgivable feeling.

Feelings, I beg of you.
Twist my heart a bit.
Let it love him less less less.
So, I could perhaps,
think clearly.

But I am terrified,
because J recognize,
and I am sober,
and I still
still like him.

And it remains, the mass, the
magnitude, the forbidden.

I wonder when my supposed
bravery
would do me a favor.
Impulsive
My days have been
filled by your
replies.
Without the
boy, what
can I even feel?