X Marks The Spot

I wrote this while on a mission trip to Chicago. I'm hoping for some good reviews. I tried styling it after how my friend, AJ Johnson, writes her stories. So, props to her for structure inspiration.

An "X" marks treasure on a map.

An "X" marks something of importance.

An "X" marks a sign of danger.

An "X" marks a total failure.

Right now, there is an "X" over my heart,

and I wonder what it's importance is.

-large sigh-

The road to my heart is similar to

Chicago's road system.

You might as well give a 5 year old a

Crayon and tell 'em to go to town.

The twist the turns, the insensible intersections.

Over-passes, under-passes, on-ramps and off-ramps.

A tangled conglomeration of oversized vehicles

spewing out toxic fumes form their tailpipes.

The path to my heart is much the same.

It's trapped within some crazy network

that few have the ability to navigate.

As difficult and downright confusing

this network is, two have been able to

worm their way into the one organ

that still reminds me that I can feel.

These two people are the

people I can say I "love".

They don't get a quick "I love you",

no they get something special.

The first to wiggle his way in got

"Forever and Always" after his "I love you".

He was my Hunny Bunny. He was wonderful,

but I screwed that up.

The one I call my own now 

gets a special I love you,

"Ya Tebya Lyublyu".

It's Russian, like him. Young love

doesn't even begin to describe us.

You see, he's only thirteen.

Go ahead and call me whatever

you want, I've heard it all.

Cradle robber, pedophile, child molester.

I don't care. If you ignored the age and

just listened to all of his talents and abilities,

as well as his hardships he's faced,

you might just understand.

But the point is, with all of my hearts defenses

he was able to flutter effortlessly through

my Maze and let loose Cupid's Arrow.

What can I say, I'm drawn to 

the cute and adorable.

He most definitely qualifies.

Why am I telling you this?

Honestly, I don't even know. 

Even as I'm writing, atop a bunk

while Arens snores below, I've managed

to confuse myself. I suppose I'm tired of

the distance, or maybe how so many people

jump to conclusions without asking for my input.

Whatever the case inside my boggled mind,

and however he managed to crawl

through the Trenches,

I'm so glad he did.

Author's Note

It's different from my normal writing style, so I'm looking for comments and tips.

Reviews

[CHRIS ANDES]

i wonder why it's called a poem where in fact it has a lot of ideas than a poem
maybe i can call it a descriptive poem
because this is really a wonderful write regardless of the style
=]