Why is it that us poets, people of such passion are so often the ones clutching the bottle at the end of the night as we crawl into bed alone?

Why are we the ones searching for someone to **** because we never get any farther than that. Some call it home run but a hug is much more satisfying.

And we're the ones who cyber stalk and listen to music and pour out ours hearts and scream at the top of lungs and go on midnight runs.

And I have no one I can explain this to. No one I an call and cry poetry too and no one I am yell at and no one to love and no one to hate. And I thought it would work. I thought maybe I would get lucky and meet someone whose heart whispered the same things as mine.

Once upon a time in a far away land a princess met her prince. But tonight right here a young woman is simply begging for anything, anyone.