How could I forget
When I met you
You were drinking Soju

I had the same Korean market earrings
Shifting in my ears
Magnets swinging sober

Drunk on approaching you
All sunken eyes and crooked lip
But this was not our fate
I’d call this having the upper hand

In that moment, we could argue it was me

All wicked and intentioned
Closing bar as I tend to
Always last to be called on or kicked out
Call it what you will
Just, call me

You call it confidence I call it chaos
You claim I caught you when I spoke

But let’s be honest
It was always you

You radiate a warmth I’ve never needed
Until now
So now,
Who’s really got the upper hand

Put my money where your mouth is
Because I can’t live on “what if” notions
Too much agony in uncertainty
Too much going with the motions

You
A believer in “just going for it”

Me
All calculated and miss-calibrated

I’m prone to keeping wary company
Keeps me grounded
Keeps me satiated

Know I’m reckless and unwavered
I’d hardly call it well intentioned

More like there’s more to fear than losing
More crushing soul in desperation

And we both know I could stand to feel something

Spend hours upon hours
(Upon hours)
Analyzing space
Or lack of time
Brushing knots out of my thoughts
Wondering why the shower head
Can never keep heat
Why I refuse to let myself sleep
Like I deserve to ache
Sit idle in my consciousness
Mistake cats and long driveways
For omens

Speak my own language
Like yours but
Complicated
Feeling inconsistent as usual
Sometimes my memories
Can’t remember if they were dreams
Can’t tell if this is
Or what is one
Not much to do
But to avoid what must be done
Life is like this
Except less romantic

Is it my mind that
Deceives itself like this

But isn’t that sickness

A series of realizations
Usually in the morning
Which tend to be more like evenings
But I long to watch the sun rise
Just to do it all over again

Learned that dawn doesn’t always look the same
And the moon
It sometimes calls my name
It’s me who’s small
Despite the stars
Eventually I’ll sleep again

Is it possible to fall in love with a stranger
I'd like to compare it to believing in a god you've never seen.
Trying to convince everyone you know that it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.
But you don't know who he is.
Gone.
With the smell of the coffee still reminiscent in his words.
That cologne,
You've smelled it on some one else.

Blue.
Like the color of the ocean in his eyes.
And now you're drowning with no water in sight.
Throat dry, because he's taken every ounce there was within miles.
He doesn't know it though.
He's just a stranger after all.

Conversation.
Something about that New York band and living somewhere by the sea.
Big dreams from the beautiful soul you'll only encounter for 45 minutes.
Long before you notice, it was only his lunch break,
And you, only sight seeing.

Now you're longing.
Longing for lips you've never kissed.
And the bitter politics.
Because he hates voting.
American man who's a slave to a good story.
Still a child at heart but only for 45 minutes at a time,
And that's when he's with you.
Because god forbid someone sees him for who he really is.
And thank god it's only the people who will never see him again.
And maybe,
Just maybe,
If someone were to hear him out for once
He wouldn't hear voices in his head,
Or talk to strangers about all the awful things he's done in bed.

He likes to have *** with the lights off
Because no one can see how awful you are in the dark.
And it makes a little more sense that you can't see the voices
When you can hardly see the palms of your hands.

And you sat there.
Contemplating how a man with beautiful bones, could ever feel so low.
You wanted to;
Run your hand along his chin,
And touch the black that is his sole.
But you held back.
After all he's just someone you don't know.

As he stood up,
Smiling with lips that should be considered a sin,
Returning to busy crowd that he used as a metaphor for the chaos that is his life.
You thought,
"I love a man who uses metaphors."
And then you said.
"Is it possible to fall in love with a stranger?"

I believe I said I was done with you,
So tell me why the hell is your voice still so familiar.
All my attempts to rid myself of you.
Rotting, with all the things I've hand labeled as self inflicted problems.

I see parts of you in people I meet.
Your physical appearance and similar tone in voice.
Exchanging words with those people make me want to shove shards of glass down my throat.
But I don't.
I smile.
Tell them, "you remind me of someone I used to know".
But I don't remember you anymore.

"Bitter liar."
Indeed I am.
The lonely socialist.
Because now I'm playing your game.
These aren't the same rules though.
And we're not playing fair.
You're cheating the system,
And you've got someone holding your hand.

But I'll shove your existence into the darkest parts of my heart,
Because I've made a special place for things I never want to come across.

And you still call.
You ask me how I'm doing,
But quite frankly, I could do without you interrupting at all.
I want to tell you to stop laughing,
Stop calling me about things that aren't relevant anymore.
But you'll invite yourself right back into my life.
Leaving a nostalgic taste of "calls beyond midnight"

Ideally, this distance would be sufficient enough to never hear your rhythmic speaking.
But realistically, I can hear the grinding of your teeth as you struggle not to repeat things.
Test my patience.
Regurgitate all the words that make me cringe.
Leave me livid and still longing,
Because I want nothing more than to never think of you again.