Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t just been the backseat of your car,
Intoxicated. My first drunk hook up. My first. Period.
I picture myself being champagne on Valentine’s Day.
I picture myself being you, nervous in the car, holding Starbucks
because you know I love coffee. Sometimes, I picture myself as her,
calling you a stalker and ignoring your calls,
but then I see myself. I call you beautiful,
turn you into poetry, laugh at your bad jokes,
I see myself as I become your drunk Wednesday night
when you’re sad. I see myself as I say no,
I become a “this is not a good idea”
and you a “we’ll deal with the consequences in the morning.”
We laugh because this hurts too much.
You take her out for dinner and I burrow money
for Plan B because you forgot you don’t like condoms
and clearly have no idea how children are made.
I have already named him. He has your curls and
my anxiety. He is smart. Except, I never wanted kids and
you would be a great father. Instead, you tell her
the beach reminds you of her and I cry in a McDonald’s
bathroom with my friend as relief floods through me that
the test comes negative. I stop talking to you,
move forward, meet someone new and before long
see myself becoming you. Because isn’t that the cycle?
Bad men turn good women into bad women who turn
good men into bad men. I’ll set him free so he can hurt
someone like me, and I drink red wine as I read her
poems about him and me.

I can be mean, I can be nice.
Not all at once, not more than twice.
No need to scream, just words of advice.
This isn’t a dream, just a means to entice.
I’m not a machine, or handheld device.
This isn’t ice cream, or a bowl filled with rice.
Lets make a scene, let’s roll the dice.
Not as bad as it seems
When you play your cards right.

My only crime is that I
Have way too good of an imagination, because
In my mind
We’ve been talking now for quite awhile and
You finally realize
That you want to be with me, only me, and I
Am not sitting here alone, lonely, wondering
What you’re doing, where you are, or what you’re thinking.

Its true - I always wear my heart too openly, smile too widely,
I decide what I want, then pursue it with everything inside of me, and
It’s embarrassing, because clearly you either haven’t been noticing
Or… you just don’t really care.

Life is never going to be fair, they should have told us that
In tv, books and movies, there is no happy ending
There is only rocky beginnings, twisting middle grounds
And inconclusive endings.
It’s been four days now, and you still haven’t said anything.
You have my poetry, my hopes,
While I am left here, alone, with nothing.

No phone calls, no texts, just empty, deflated imaginings.
In my defense, if you were to call me out on it, I wouldn't lie about it either. I've had you stuck - for days and weeks - inside my head.
It's true, your Honor. I apologize. Proclaim me guilty for this crime.
Because I just
Have way too good of
An imagination, I guess.

For once in my life,
if someone asks me "Are you ok?"
I want to reply "Yes, I'm fine!" with a smile
and really mean it that time.