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In which my anger got the best of me.

In which love is one-sided. The second half of my poem "What is Love?"

Just something I wrote in high school for the theme of "tipping points."

The day we met was like a dream. My memory paints it in beautiful, delicate pastels.

Miserable? I could have sworn that the cafe practically shined when I approached.

“You don’t have to look so embarrassed, you know. It’s an honor to be in love with someone who loves you just as much.”

Every time he entered, the sun would light his pathway, as if happy that the Sun King himself had returned.

The ghosts of my past still whisper softly to me on dark days.

"But Leah, those useless, good-looking kids are the most dangerous. They don’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer"

“Please?” Letting out a frustrated sigh, I ran my hands through my knotted hair and cradled the phon..