I don't care that you're a drug dealer, I don't care that I have a boyfriend, I don't care that I shouldn't want you. I do. I can't help it. I need to know what your lips taste like.. what your body feels like against mine. Get at me ;) —Unmixed Signals

I wished upon a star, on a cold April night. It asked for time with your heart, under sun’s light. With dislocated chance this wish fell to the ground and its urgency required for it to be painfully found. I really shouldn’t try to Right with my write for the risk. If I used my Left I might miss, choosing words to touch your face with a soft and gentle kiss. I wrote with my Right using keys and hurt a heart I wish to please. All I have Left, is pencil with a quest to wear my heart all out there on my sleeve. Will you be left, and right, with me? —Tuesday's Leftovers

The other day we bumped into each other at the oval and peered deep into the stars together. I fell in love with a skater. You board with a parka and cruise like a champ. Do you remember when the time we lost our feet in the sand? I said I rode more goofy, but not when I wrote to thee. These words carve up the paper and your wheels shred the road. Love is my adrenaline, so let's talk this out and play some more. I am not bored with our journey and will not pass my fault. I accept that I’ve follied and unacceptably ollied on my “ass’s fault.” The other night I fell, like lyrics meteors we missed and those bruised hands that I kissed. We missed those stars and I still went too far, but I’m still falling so hard for my only true star, a girl with four wheels, a cute smile and sore wrists. Lets carve up all those hot summer street and stargaze at the cosmos when we’re done in that heat. —Henry Shredsworth Longboarder

I woke up at dawn just to write you a song about how I might try gracefully to right you my wrong. How bout a mangled cliche or a simple love trope? I feel like doing more at the risk of sounding like a dope. Lost some me some sleep, but I found you these words. Little lion man countin sheep, just to build up the courage. Insert a lovely summer love story right here. A lovely tale, secretly written on these pages plain and clear. If you love the way I love: poetic, patient and sincere; I will choose my words more carefully to boastfully endear you and hopefully be clear to you - my love. —Poe Headache Love

Oh my gosh. I want you so bad. I've been able to feel my heart beating in my genitals for weeks. Your scent is burning into my brain and your stare into my retinas. I WANT YOU. I want to forget about everything externally and experience you. But I know future-me could be all like "WHY???" but...I just want. Can I haz?...she asked rhetorically. —Pinky

Time and space are pretty silly, and I know we agree on that much. Finding things we don't agree on is one of the things I love about our conversations. One of these days I swear I will have enough guts in me to tell you how I feel, instead of what I think. I'm rather convinced you already know anyway, but I'm willing to wait so that I can look you in the eyes and tell you the whole truth. Between now and that moment, I will wait, more gladly and more patiently than I have ever waited for anything. The next conversation and the next hug between us are more worth the wait to me, every time. Now please hurry up and come back! —Still Growing

This Friday past, I went to my mailbox and found in it a little bubble envelope with my name and info but no return address. I opened it, and there was... my boyfriend's missing iPhone, a month after a leprechaun presumably nipped it during a drunken St. Pat's downtown. It had been completely unlocked and untrackable, but you, kind stranger, must have gone into his contacts and found my address to return it, all it while resisting some very real temptation. We had totally and sadly given it up for gone. And guess what? The day it showed up was my birthday! So thank you, thank you, thank you, kind stranger, for the $700 birthday gift to us, and for sending it obviously without a thought for a reward or credit. I wish I could send this note to you personally. You have a heart of gold. —People Are Wonderful

I sometimes doubt you, I will admit. But you always seem to bounce back. I hope you continue to do so. I hear rumours of us humans moving to a different planet. I don't want to lose you; please heal and continue to support me with your trees breathing air into my lungs and the sweet, smooth, clean water you provide for me. You have mountain ranges covered in snow and beautiful animals and forests to run through and oceans and lakes to swim in, and you are just ever so lovely. I love you, Earth. —Shameless Pollyanna and Treehugger

This love is dancing in the wind like a major league knuckle ball. A very special kind of pitch where the pitcher leaves the path of the ball up to the elements. It travels much slower than a regular picture and the thrower surrenders his control of the ball to wind speed, air temperature, and chance. It requires patience, discipline, and letting go of what might happen. I'll admit that I have not been very confident in my ability to work with the knuckle ball and all that tension I put on myself made it hard to relax. But a good “knuckler” knows to relax. I’m on the 60-day disabled list with a dislocated shoulder, but I am ready play ball with you. I love our knuckle ball and I love you. Would you like to go dancing in the wind with me? —The Chicago Cub

I go to your punk shows and sit with my eyes glued to your dexterous fingers, feeding my "look but don't touch" junior high style crush. Your booming, boyish laugh and undercut drive me nuts, but I have no idea how to talk to you. If you ever want to talk Miyazaki films, drop by my store and I'll try my best to string together a sentence or two. I hope you'll indulge my creepy crush, even if it's just for an evening. —Blonde & Boring