I remember meeting you last year,
you still had a girlfriend.

You sat in the corner of your apartment
while the party continued around you.

We talked a little bit,
you seemed nice.

Then I met you again this year,
and you made me smile.

I said you could stay with me for the night,
if you needed, so you didn't have to go so far home.

And I didn't know what to do,
it was just an offer, not an expectation.

So we both got changed into clothes to sleep in,
and we stood there like idiots.

I felt so vulnerable.
You felt lost.

And finally you closed the space between us
and kissed me.

You thought of someone else
who hurt you.

And you told me after
that she was still on your mind.

So I left it at that night
confused but not mad.

A few weeks go by
and there was one time randomly

I wanted to see you again
but you weren't ready, yet.

And it's the only time I've
cried while drunk.

Then one day you texted me - I know this is weird,
but if you wanted, you could come over and I can make you dinner.

We watched TV
and then I went home.

The next night we hung out again
and then we did constantly.

We didn't talk about what happened before
and it chewed at me.

So I asked
and you answered

that I made you happy
when you were so tired of being sad.

I knew that you still weren't there
but I was getting hooked

on the attention that you gave me.
Not the bad kind.

The kind where you texted me good morning
and knew what was important to me.

But she was still on your mind,
and I was just a filler.

There was going to be a span of time where we
didn't see each other.

I was going to end it there.
But that is not what happened.

After the time we still saw each other
and I knew I was getting to that point

where I was falling.
I thought I could just stop it.

And finally I had to,
because you weren't ready for more

But now I see I should've held on.
I'm leaving soon.

I know this is weird,
but if you wanted, you could come over and I can make you dinner.

Tonight I wanted to be looked at.
So I did my hair
  washed my face
    lined my lips.
My *** hung out
  my rack pushed up
    oh, am I making you uncomfortable?
It's actually a classy jumpsuit.
Am I asking for it?
I asked for a gaze, but I doubt anyone actually saw me.
We are too adsorbed in what everyone is thinking about us,
so we don't see anyone.

Each time I write an ending I am faced with my past failures.
The people I have put my faith in have not worked and really
that's okay.
But when you look at their profile and see them smiling with someone else, a little part aches.
I am happy for them.
And I remember why I was interested -

I hope they feel the same.
Perhaps I wasn't just some ink blot on this timeline.
But even if, at least I made some sort of mark.

I wonder what my first love would think if I told him I still have the lanyard he gave me hanging on the shelf of my dorm room.

I wonder what they think when they think of me.

I wrote a happy ending for you.
You found this girl;
she was the bees knees.
I liked her.

She wrote the end of the songs
you had already been singing.

She liked the mushrooms and the spinach
in the omelets you made.

She watched baseball
and made videos
and bought the posters to cover the walls of your apartment.
That space was not home without her touch.

I wrote your smile that opened when she walked down the aisle.
I wrote the arguments which threatened to tear you apart.
I wrote the good times that held it together.

I’ve written this, for you.

Too many mistakes have happened these past few days.
Well months.
Years, actually.
        I meant all of it.
I laid against skeletons and believed in their words,
So I thought it was my turn to say those magic things,
and not feel the warmth spread over my skin.
Just let it be.
I missed out the most;
on this
person.
He didn't disappear,
or turn into an ****. I saw the end at the beginning, and my friends and I - we waved him off as a casualty of a casual time.
I cannot help but wonder.
Did a lack of butterflies mean he was not right,
or that I was not ready?
I was heading backwards, immature but not particularly dumb.
In fact a bit of maturity is needed in casual relationships -
Arguably more than a traditional one.
And that is where I faulted.
I was ready, oh so ready for something permanent
but unwilling to wait. Too ignorant to know
none of this is permanent.
He is a good one.
I wasted away.

Backwards seem things
First,
     Passion.

Second,
Research.
Third,
Develop.

All scrambled too much to go in queue.


“Who says there can’t be dialogue in poetry”
Pursuing without skill,
Bumbling batches of braying people believe in entitlement.

(It is best to also avoid alliteration)

Pursuing without skill,
                           People believe in entitlement.

All meaningless scribbles across the page

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