In the future, I will have already missed you
I can just imagine you on the subway somewhere real busy. You'd be sitting there with your legs crossed with a book's pages sprawled out on your lap, like how I used to be. The lights shining in your eyes so you're not really looking up, but your letting the warmth in. The seats rattle and you're looking out the window.
         Maybe I just want to imagine a place where you're doing better and you aren't so anxious all the time. Somewhere you feel successful and accomplished and like college wasn't a waste.
        More realistically I can imagine you sitting on your phone, headphones in, shoulders slumped, eyes darting. You're on your way to somewhere busier than before. Just for work. A life in the city wasn't meant for you, I know that because you told me. And I listened.
        You're probably wearing something that screams you're gay and diligent about this interview, or this daily commute. There's a stabbing pain I get from thinking about you. How truly independent you have finally become. Thinking of you now is like hoping we had something more. Wishing I meant more to you then. Wishing I had made some kind of impact on this stoic statue.
      I envy what you're like to the people you can't help but love, and I'm saddened that I never got to experience you like that.
      Lucky me, I'm never going to be the one you drive two hours for. I wish the short hours I gave you made you feel special. Maybe felt, something more.

Now here you've got me
like a scene from a cult classic movie.
my legs trembling for a heart gauged open
and blood dripping
down your face
Tell me- when was the first time you saw me in pain?
Some can say,
soaked before the rain
they noticed me pray

that'll be the morning
When you feel me through the sheets
even after hurting
myself so deep
Have I told you the story of who I was yet?
Have I done a good enough job
convincing you
Why I love me
and why you should to

I've been sleeping in odd places
next to a ***** blanket
on the floor of this cold apartment.
I get little sleep because my insomnia
keeps saying ridiculous ****
and its starting to scare me.

I find myself frozen when he asks me
Do you think you know yourself
He tells me I care too much about the answers
I tell him he isn't very good company.
He tells me I try too hard for others
that I'm only going to get my heart broken.
I tell him it's still worth it
He crawls closer to the couch
and impersonates my crying.

I've been sleeping in odd places
next to a confused womanizer
on the bed that can't stop squeaking.
They never look at me directly
they can't afford to find attachment
under these eyes of mine
when it's only the cuffing season

I've been sleeping in odd places
next to my anxiety
on the floor of my mind.  
I'm clutching onto these odd moments
like little snippets of my life
I'm trying to piece myself together
with all the bad that I have done