thank god i can’t write good poetry
the best poetry comes from pain and hurt if you ask me
so although i can’t write like i used to
at least it means i’m doing alright

i must ask myself,
“what is it that
i’m really afraid of?”
i guess, all this time
i’ve been under the impression that
we feel the same way.
just suppressing our feelings until
we can make sense of them but
what if i’m wrong?
what if you meant it
when you said that
you were riding this one out solo?
i guess that’s what’s stopping me
from telling you,
from giving you that letter.
at this point,
i don’t know if i could take
another romantic failure, another
set of months spent
crying and fuming
and writing angsty breakup poems
about a boy i never even dated.
i guess i’m still afraid of
rejection.

i was trying to pay attention to your voice, and what you were saying
but instead,
my mind kept wandering to
your crooked teeth,
and the way your eyes crinkle into almonds
when you laugh,
and your t-shirt fitting snugly
around your muscles
and the way your top lip curls down when you smile and
your lips & your lips & your lips.
darling i’m sorry for staring but
you’re adorable,
in a **** kind of way
and the way you glance down at your shoes when you smile
and then back up again
makes me want to kiss you so bad i’m sorry
because i know we silently agreed to take things slow but
i didn’t anticipate you catching me
the way i was caught.
-a.c.b