not every poem's a love poem.

Not every poem’s a love poem 
about how I miss your face 
even when you rushed home
I would stand in place. 

I watched your innocent gait
as you strode down Avenue 80 
you told me that I shouldn’t wait
and I thought you were crazy.

You made me love the color red
but you taught me to hate Parkville
you wanted me to discard all you said 
my mind, but not my heart, will.

So keep the animals and bracelet
always on your nightstand
only put them in the basement 
when you have found the right man.

I will let your perfume remain 
and trickle through my senses
I will think of you the same 
As if all we had was friendship.

I told you this was no love poem
since I don’t miss your face 
and next time that you rush home
I won’t be in that place.