One of the things I mentioned before is that I enjoy writing. Moreover, I enjoy writing poetry. I jokingly call myself the poet rebel, because I don't like following rules. Poetry gives you all the liberties you want with English; in fact you can tell the language to kiss your furry white ass and you'll write whatever and however you feel like it.

Similarly, I hate poetry that follows rules. Therefore as a rule of thumb I generally write it freestyle. I don't do rhyming unless necessary, and about the only thing I follow is a set line count for flow, and even that isn't a set rule with me.

In general I don't submit my poetry here simply because I'm collecting together enough to publish it in a book someday. And, well, that's why you won't see it here. Last thing I need is for someone to rip me off and cause all sorts of problems.

But, as poetry is an exception to English, so much I have an exception to my poetry.

This submission was a little love poem I wrote for someone's birthday a long, long time ago. It was written back in 2003 in fact. We've since broken up, and I of course made a complete ass of myself afterwards so she doesn't speak to me anymore. This in fact is why I am not looking to publish this one. Besides being as mediocre as it is, I get a sense of *wrong* whenever I think about adding this to a published collection. Something about it just screams to me that the only respect I can give it, as getting paid to publish it seems incredibly shameful.

I wanted to edit it, update it, pretty it up some more, but then I decided against it. I think it should just live on as I had left it five years ago, created but never polished. The only thing I've done for the sake of the upload is remove the recipient's name, for I'm sure she would rather her anonymity.

So I give to you, a rare moment of my shining romantic side. I guess the only thing left for this is to be a monument to the incredible beauty I can create, and a reminder of the stupid things I've done to lose the things I cherish most.