Thoughts of a depressed in love teenager

Hot chocolate

Hot Chocolate

How would one define love?

Is it the moments of infatuation?

The consistent giving of one's self?

I've found it in the warm blanket by the fire,

each of us huddled in with a hot chocolate

and taking that first sip

with just enough whipped cream.

I've found it when i stare into the eyes

that seem to become a vacuum of space,

forcing me inward,

never letting me escape.

I've found it in small conversation.

The moments we double over in laughter

or ponder introspective thoughts together

growing as one.

I've found it also across the room

where she wont talk to me.

Setting me ablaze simply by shutting down

and remaining silent,

almost like a battlefield

where the first to speak peacefully

is shot down and shuts up

leaving the emotional war festering.

I've even found it on the drive to her house,

that silent war still screaming.

Dropping her off, saying goodbye,

and being hit by the sniper shot of a slamming car door.

But sometimes it's found with quiet reflection:

just the silence of the self

who sits and listens to its own thoughts

and finds truth in the mind.

I've found that talks and thoughts behind locks

can bring the warm blanket back to fruition.

Hot chocolate can be nurtured with

warmth of one's own soul.

So grab your favorite blanket, pour your hot water,

stir the cocoa in and savor that whipped cream.

'Cause i know you can make your own best drinks.

- anonymous