By Brian Will
The Platonic Angst-Filled Love Poem
We are Not a couple,
and I regret to inform you,
we Never will be.
Let me break this down for you,
in the words of the late, great, Merriam Webster:
Platonic.
Adjective.
Definition 2 comma B:
“Of, relating to, or being a relationship marked by the absence of romance, or sex.”
And through the eyes of Mr. and Mrs. Thesaurus:
Antonym:
1. Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper.
B. James Ford and Juliet Burke.
3. Prince Charming and Snow White.
Synonyms:
A. Harry and Hermione.
2. Ted and Lilly.
C. You and me.
I metaphorically slapped peer pressure
across the face,
with words from wannabe textbooks
bound in the land of common knowledge.
On some days it almost feels like the
universe wants us to be in love.
No, It needs us to fall deeply in love.
So far down the rabbit hole, that we end up
drowning
in a sea of reds purples pinks Indigos
hearts Sun shines daisies and
Butterfly pooping elephants
with buttercups
and her-
eyes.
But I’m not in love.
What is this,
Degrassi?
Look,
Don’t say a thing,
I’ve heard it all before:
You’re gonna look back and have regret!
(Yeah, I probably will.)
You two already act like a couple!
(So, what’s it to you?)
Don’t you like her?
(I enjoy spending time with her.)
Ask her out!
(No.)
Why not?!
(I am afraid of loss.)
Haven’t you heard it’s better to love and loss rather than never love at all?
(Yeah, well gee, I guess I’m lost in lost in love.)
I Was Told To…
I was told to write a poem.
But I did not.
I was told to write an essay.
But I failed to do so.
I was told to write a story.
But I kindly refused.
Instead I decided to sit alone at my desk.
As I stared at an all-too-familiar
blank
word document –
I pondered my place in the universe,
and contemplated the dualities of light and dark
One by one I carefully examined
every possible factor
that waged war over my existence
Good,
Evil,
Hormones,
And, of course, God.
I was asked to write a poem.
But I turned the offer down.
I was asked to write an essay.
But I never turned one in.
I was asked to write a story.
But I turned the other way.
Instead, I closed my eyes.
I pictured myself, standing on the fringes of Oblivion.
Staring out into the nameless,
spaceless void
where nothing mattered:
not my Past,
not my Future,
not my Mistakes,
Successes,
or Present.
And no one existed to give a damn,
about my thoughts, revelations, or feelings.
Just me
and Nothing.
You see,
I was asked to write a poem.
But unfortunately-
I did not.
Brian Will has been writing since the 6th grade. However it was not until the 10th grade that he discovered poetry. Since then every poem has been a step on his journey to finding his voice in verse and spoken word. He hopes to one day publish an anthology of his work. Aside from poetry he fills his notebooks with short prose pieces as well as plot and character notes for the novels he plans to one day write. He is 18 years old, and a senior in high school.
This guy must have one great Creative Writing teacher 😉 Nice work, BW.