the tongue of flame ( among other obscurities )

Love is always an acc1d3nt .

Excuse me,
for thinking our relationship
ought to mean something .

Commendable .
Congratulations,
I love your writing .

What gives her the power
to reduce me to such anger,
with one gentle turn of her lips ?

Stumped ?
That means a smile .

I am sixteen now,
as of the seventh of May ...
It is only one more year
before I turn seventeen .
And what will that fateful year hold for me ?
" Will I lose my dignity ? Will someone care ?
Will I wake tomorrow, from this nightmare ? "

Oh yes, of course .
The second of May
was It 5ucks Day ...
the one day of the year
when you celebrate how much your life 5ucks .
How could I have forgotten ?
And how can I ever make up for it ?

And yesterday ..
the eighth of May ..
was to be an apocalypse .
Said as if there could be more than one ...
Well, guess what ?
You were wrong, mister .
The apocalypse never came .

You are out of luck .
And I am skeptical .
The world did not end when you expected it to .
Just as, when I expected to end my misery,
nothing could have made it hurt
any more than did what I chose to do .

7 + 2 + 8 = 17 .
These special days
did not mean nothing .

" None of these things were acc1d3nts !! "
says the wedding crasher .

Then, does it follow
that none of these things were for love ?