Is This Love?


Abandon all hope, ye who decides to read this. This is written for this week’s Terrible Poetry Contest. The topic is of first loves/first crushes.

I also might now live up to the Little Writing Workshop of Horrors name after all.

Enjoy.


Your eyes,
Your hair,
Your cheeks,
Your stare.
Fart jokes and burps,
Spitting and slurps,
What’s a girl to do
But sigh, and bury
All those touchy feelings
Those horrible feelings
Those—Oh, wait, another fart joke.
Marvelous, you. Oh, marvelous.
I laugh, we curse,
Smile, we converse
About everything and nothing
Five second rule,
Doesn’t matter. You watch your friend
Hit his head in the locker.
Not a shocker. You laugh,
I roll my eyes, my heart stutters,
Am I in love? Is that what this is?
You wiggle your fingers
You walk like a caveman
With his mouth busted in
By his stupid hands.
Why do boys do stupid things?
Well, they’re boys.
You talk to me,
I say something,
You say something,
Conversation—is that what that is?
Are we talking?
Is this real or a dream?
(Oh god I hope it’s real, please be real)
I remember when I came to your birthday party
and you invited me over to sit with you
and I died. Well it would be more memorable if I did die,
So, I guess I didn’t?
And you turn to me so often
Another fart joke
Diarrhea, the squirts, the squirts,
The worst, the worst. Why does my heart flutter?
Oh, and I returned a pencil that wasn’t yours,
You were confused about that
But I insisted.
I wanted to smack you in the head with my math book,
But that smile made me take another look.
Maybe I’d hit your friend.
And you’d be okay with that, I think,
Because why not, he needs it more than you do.
You flap your hands around
Make a diarrhea sound
From your lips
And then you farted,
Your friend farted,
We all died inside
As the teacher ran to get Febreze;
It was like tear gas, and eggs
In some jelly of horse farts
And sewage from a donkey. I like you, okay?
You’re so weird,
And then I don’t like you. It’s weird.
You’re weird. I’m weird.
So I say nothing and keep this to myself.
My heart sunk when you said you didn’t know what
To do if someone had a crush on you.
Well, I’m right here, darlin’.

But I wouldn’t say that,
So I just nod and agree,
Pretend we understand the world
When we can’t, and alright,
I just, I just like you
Even though your farts are often
And might make me dive in a coffin.

Also P.S.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I really like you
You have tp on your shoe.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.



Categories: Poetry

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

13 replies

  1. Hahaha. What’s tp?

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This is hysterical! You nailed it!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. This was fantastic! I thought you used many terrible tactics! I thought it a bit advanced for a first lover’s poem, but enjoyed it (especially since I have five boys at home! Why do they talk about farting so much?).

    Liked by 1 person

    • Hahaha. Why, thank you! 😁

      I agree, it did seem advanced especially for the age I was attempting at writing from; I definitely wasn’t a writer then!

      I know, right? It’s definitely an epidemic for boys everywhere. Why they all talk about farting, it beats me.

      Anyway, thank you so much. I’m glad you enjoyed this! 😀

      Liked by 1 person

  4. This is amazing Lucy. Nicely written the terrible way. 👍😄

    Liked by 1 person

Trackbacks

  1. WINNER of the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest 2/14/2020 | Chelsea Ann Owens

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