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To 2015 - 2016
What I Know of Love

By Ashley Wu

  1. Untitled
    By Sneha Iyer, 12
I know of textbook definitions
concrete trying to consume a fluid
Love - Webster Dictionary,
strong affection felt by
people who have a romantic
relationship, noun, means nothing.
I know of my mother who says,
“You are a waste of space,
a time flux, a brick in a city,
a wretched cat brought from the storm.”
and then finally “I say this
because I love you.”
Monotone and metallic hints of voice.
I know love from my friends,
their puppy-eyed eager love,
snatching and grabbing at what it can.
One day all trembling lip-biting and
Wasted promises and naïve kisses,
the next day a dial tone dull exponential
murdering the wooden floorboards
to get a good cry without the spotlight on.
From “his girl” to “his mistake”
in the time it takes a pitcher of water
to freeze outside on a two degree day.
I know of long nights leafing through novels
looking for a peace of body, a peace and quiet,
but instead finding tumultuous passionate
souls intertwining and love so intense
that hate gets scared as hell
all within a handful of type on parchment.
Expectation upon expectation
merely exists to let you down easy.
I know of men that love women as themselves
“I love her because we’re so similar”
plucking Narcissus’ flower from the lake
All smoke and fog machines and dead ends.
I kiss her because her eyes are glass mirrors
I can see myself all the more clearly.
God didn’t gift men the ability
to kiss themselves
so she’ll have to do.
I know of “don’t tell anyone”
and blatant love in the face of a world
that can’t accept difference
that can’t accept change.
Winding sex determined path
a suppressed passion to satisfy the
leering jeering masks that laugh and
tease and push and kill because they’re terrified
terrified of your magnificence, your potential.
Anatomical parts should not define love.
Love shouldn’t be such a crime.
I know of cult obsession unrequited
a girl pines delicate as a smashed flower
trying to grab his attention as he turns away,
a clawing epidemic type infatuation,
devouring herself from the inside out,
becoming a hallow shell of a being,
wearing her hair the way that he likes,
even though the pins pinch her white neck.
loving someone more than you love you.
So go ahead and take your romance,
take your chivalry and faith and lust,
and get out of here.
This is not a place for love.
This is a place for survival.