From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul on Love & Friendship

Teenage Love

He loves me . . . he loves me not . . .

Love starts as an insignificant seed.

A wishful prayer,

a tiny fire,

a playful giggle,

a rosy blush,

a risky wink,

or a kindly smile.

He loves me . . . he loves me not . . .

Friendship buds.

A tender understanding,

a growing warmth,

a gentle trust.

He loves me . . . he loves me not . . .

The bud opens its first petals to a pair of

sparkling eyes

which twinkle with a new


A passion that overcomes all sense

until finally

a risky chance is


He loves me . . . he loves me not . . .

The rose opens into a

beautiful, ruby blossom.

Everything else in the world becomes

lost in a crazy, wild nonsense

a happy oblivion of exhilaration

complete and total


A sweet, innocent kiss

in the moonlight

seals the mutual promises

of never-ending fidelity.




Forever . . . or until

The blossom wilts,

and the petals fade,

and the promises break,

but the memories

of sunlight and blue sky

remain fragrant

preserved in the petals

of sachets

stuffed in the back of your sock drawer

and your heart.

Molly Day

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