I met you at a time when I felt lost
and all the physical pain
collided with my emotional state.
You were the last person in the room
to approach me, and the first to notice.
I told you a story about how lovers
were stuck between all the worlds
they created and you rolled your eyes at
me. Oh, God, you said, another poet.
I’ve never met another one, I said.
Don’t fall in love with him I told myself.
Although I knew I would be the first
to fall for your dark eyes before you
even noticed mine. They were
as dark as my thoughts. You’ll
break my heart and I’ll lose count
of all the ways you want to love me
and other stupid thoughts kept
pestering my brain. shutthefuckup my brain.
I just want to get over someone
so badly, you said.
Me too, I said because it didn’t sound
so pathetic as (well step right up handsome
I’m the one). It’s funny how my mind
says one thing and my mouth another
or my mind thinks one thing and I type another.
No one really knows me then.
They just think they do.
I went to the bathroom and you were gone.
I thought that was just perfect.
A perfect ending to an awful night.
I had concocted all these ideals
that you were the one
and other such bullshit
but in the end
you were another character in my poem
I never knew.
I scared you with my witch eyes for sure
and other such nonsensical thoughts
raged my brain
of why men leave me.